poems from the rift: part one

Gathering Thoughts

I drill down into the paper

Words words words

They spill

But they do not form

I’m trying to gather my thoughts

I’m trying to gather my thoughts

I’m trying to gather my thoughts

I’ll turn them into a book

With a format and a title

The story hasn’t changed much

But the words don’t stick to the page

They do not form

I’m thinking of how the Fall smells

The earth as it grows colder

Seasons change in a repetative motion

I’m trying to calculate the functions

and the patterns in the air

They do not form

Oh well

___

Blankets

I see dots on the ceiling

In the middle of the night I try to grasp onto a feeling

My fingers wrap into the blanket

I’m waving myself into a thought process

Reaching out to the universe, I beg

Please understand I don’t have the control

I don’t understand the process of feeling

Yet I try to grab onto something that isn’t there

In a place where the sheets don’t hold me properly

I can’t move or hold onto ideas anymore

____________________________________________________

Follow me on Twitter & Instagram. Check out my Linktree.