subside the restless, crashing waves.

free my mind from this prison.

i am tired.
i am lost.
i've lost all meaning of the word, hope.

now, i just survive,
but only just...

egged on by the pluck and strike of the dancing tunes i force myself to listen to,
just to distract myself from all the raging stimuli.

emotion-sensory overload

perhaps, it's time i tried something new.
to stare into fear, and run it through...

maybe the little white pills aren't the boogyman,
the monster under my bed.

the monster is in my head,
and perhaps,
this little white pill...
just may put him away for a little while,
one day at a time.

subside the restless,
thoughts in my head.


~~~~~~~

this is my therapy.
so that i can breathe.

this one's not for you,
it's for me to read.
but if you really want to,
so can you.

Point light source.
Glimpse upon your reality.

Soft-spoken liars,
Emptying their forsaken breath upon battle-scarred ears.

Anticipation of the days to come,
Eases the empty mind;
Drain'd by warfare unseen.

The fight ongoing,
Rough-cracked skin boils in the sun,
Heat-stroked by the anxiety.

Retreat into the shadows,
You poor, blossoming flower.
All you need,
Is partial shade.

Your pastel blossoms will bloom,
With colors that will amaze and astound.

Feed upon the streams that drift by,
And at last you will shine as your heartsongs always knew you could.

Define your own beauty,
And become your very own,
Point light source.

~Robert van Lingen

Foreign places,
Foreign faces,
With nothing,
   And no one to lose...

And not a second's grief gain'd but with my own anxieties.

Just a moment's notice is all it takes to turn a moment's motives from having a good time to just getting away.

Spare me the sickness of my socialities,
Stare into my petrified eyes and fill them with tears,

If nothing else,
But just to displace my fears.

~Robert van Lingen

Conjunctory synapsations dominate this space of mine.
Illogictorious messengers flutter across the grey matter.

Ellaborations swim down my being.
Painfulnesses take wing through the nervousness I call anxiety.

It is reading words that can be said, but that you cannot understand.
This is me,
My time,
My ramblings in thought,
I am,
Stranded in my mind.

I am not myself, for without those near, N'er I resolve to nothing.

I am you, I am Him, and her. I am all who I see, For without all, I am nothing.

~Robert van Lingen

Words,
Are the believed truth.
The selfless intentions we've lost ourselves within.
Abhorred by those who don't understand.

Words,
Are the language of our endless thoughts,
Torturously imprisoned if left with no other choice.

So,
Speak to me your sins,
Your loves,
Your pains,
Your means,
And your end.

Spout your soliloquy my direction,
And I would revel in the limitless interpretations of your thought.

Words are LOVE

~Robert van Lingen