Break

my heart feels dry
and I don't know why
if I meet life with my truth

or is it only mind
that displays its true kind
and hides my rest for it to soothe?

I know it's been years
since those raging tears
have pierced through my eyes unwilled

then I took control
sought to rule them all
better to know than live unfulfilled

but the heart of a child
is too tender and wild
for my being to even conceive

must I break down in full
'fore I know my true soul
and perhaps once again wildly live?

yet no plan can I make
that I sure-know will break
these old walls that still cover my depth

maybe fall, ground to heart,
let my ribs split apart,
if love still doesn't come, maybe death

Cravings

Cravings are
the fuel of my day-to-day.

crave for fulfillment
crave for food
crave for excretion
crave for sex
crave for security
crave for affection
crave for water
crave for travel
crave for adventure
crave for laughter
crave for shouting
crave for attention
crave for music
crave for silence
crave for heat
crave for cold
crave for checking off that to-do list
crave for seeing those movies I've wanted to see
crave for proving my worth
crave for reshaping my body
crave for achievement
crave for admiration
crave for knowledge
crave for discovery
crave for understanding
crave for reaching it first
crave for knowing it deeper
crave for skills
crave for passion
crave for purpose
crave for money
crave for escape
crave for reunion
crave for seeing reality match my expectations
crave for innocence
crave for energy
crave for goals
crave for company
crave for comfort
crave for utility
crave for learning
crave for betterment
crave for indulgence

all these I have felt
all these I have fed
all these have returned
none remain appeased
as life, they do not end. they cycle
then recycle

steadily as the seasons and surely as the sun
fed cravings do not die. they cry, then I attend to them.
then they sleep. then they wake.
over and over and over again

when I know the fickleness of these cravings
my drive to feed them dwindles
shrugs its shoulders
and goes to sleep

the cravings themselves go quiet
and hush, distracted with the nothing around them
remain, unattended balls of fat.

and I feel my mind darken
and I feel my body stagnate
and I feel my passion walk off
and off in the distance, takes a nap.
I haven't heard from her in a while.

My witness rejects disgustedly
that the line of harmony lies in conscious balance
in patient and tender caring for the flowers
and weeds that my life garden grows
in constant, steady effort.
In actively harvesting strength,
willpower from the void.
It stands back, crosses its arms and looks snobbishly up to its side.
"What am I, a farmer?", it spouts.

Effortless passion or quick death, either I invite.
May I be led with ecstatic torrent
or stop the flow in full.
And now neither comes.
I float in a spoiled void
I feel entitled to either. now.
cursed to not be blessed with an immediate death.
primal life energy of youth noticeably weakened.
unwilling to grow it myself.