Suffering

wasted days spent

wasted in solitude

with stories inside

my head spinning

their way towards

an empty piece of

paper that's never

made impure with

ink in this messed

up reality being so

intangible and lost

scenes of

life never

but silent

echoes in

our abyss

where we

just dwell

confused

and filled

with tales

the label crazy suits those

who stretch reality toward

supporting the tales which

gush somewhere between

all the moist ears attached

to heads varying in shape

and size together with two

sockets for vacant staring

eyes made quite common
by processes of evolution
triggered during cambrian
explosion beginning some
five hundred thirty million
rounds around my sun ago

I know myself to be surfing underneath the surface of the sea

and as you might imagine things look pretty different in here

where one can be reminded of the quiet option of descending

to obscurity by just looking down at the silent lingering mass

of dark blue hue tempting in its promise of existence in a void

of anything resembling the experience around the concepts of

time and space which even I used to accept as the two guiding

principles of life learned from those years I spent on dry land

searching for meaning from all related to tales which felt as if

they were defying those physical laws in their very being like

fossils of dinosaurs or books by long ago dead men or sweet

promises of everlasting love whispered from tender lips with

redness signifying how the life giving flow of blood goes on