Utopia; you know you’re here,

when we say we don’t give in to fear.

We wear the panic around our necks

and sleep sweetly hoping the need does not arise

for us to awaken and in shock, widen our eyes,

press the button, hold our breaths waiting

for help to arrive; assistance in this situation

when we don’t give in to fear even though the panic is here.


utopia - panic

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Pointless torrents

Pointless torrents

Tides rush down my face and through my soul;

some of anger, some of anguish, some of no description at all.

These emotions are all-consuming;

but times, like tides, are progressing to a notable point.
The moment lets me freeze inside an infinite thought;

an idea, a theory, an unwritable hypothesis,

concluding in the casting out of one by another;

excluding nothing but the understanding of one by another.
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Clouds are the enemy

Clouds are the enemy

I wander along a deserted, misty beach.

I search for some reason; meaning; wisdom; oxygen;

a conclusion that my stubbornly-beating heart must reach.

The dawn of each day attacks me like a violent pathogen:

devouring my rationality, logic and creativity;

not letting up at all, not giving me a moment’s chance to see

the path drawn open for me,

the path drawn so very wide open just for me.

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Speaking with Sanity

Speaking with Sanity


Something in the moonlight foretells of trouble:

an event coming to threaten my stability-bubble;

a happening that would abandon me beneath masses of rubble;

to locate me would be an assignment for the Hubble.


Something in the scent of the air hints at collapse;

this would occur when my Sanity, once again, snaps.

My Sanity is a hotly-contested issue

by the voices within my head (who speak only that which is true).

Then my Sanity debates with them also:

how are the voices informed? He and I want to know.

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The rainbow is broken

The rainbow is broken


The rainbow is broken; twisted, jaded, cracked and faded.

A once-loved token; that existed – now degraded. What it lacked had made it


the most beautiful reminder of a glorious reality now left so far behind: There in the dusty recesses of time it’ll wait until someone would see the value lying there, wasted, in the shadows of a mind once fruitful; useful, truthful, youthful.

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