as she
was dire
with heath
inside her
desire where
flattened scape
or aberrance
anywhere heathen
to her
debt and
foremost in
liability but
Lakshmi sheer
while glamour
laid deepest
cacophony in  
world today

a chilling light seeps in
as my restful night
turns gnarled teeth on me.
and in my questioning state,
I dare not leave stones unturned.

I pick, I poke, I tear
under the surface of the sun,
until I not only know the answers,
but hate myself for them.

selling my soul to the devil
may be my only chance of survival.

What is this inside of me?
Twisting and Turning in my chest,
Invisible bile rising in my throat.
This darkness,
Thrashing about in my being
Threatening to burst
And infect every cell.

This unrest is going to be the end of me.
No peace,
No rest,
Blood rushing through my veins
My body urging me, DO SOMETHING.
But my mind unaware of a solution.

I am in turmoil, agony,
Waiting for it to end.
This storm rages inside of me.

And all I can do is pray
That the darkness will not win.

SYRIA HAS CHEMICAL WEAPONS
RUSSIA HAS HACKING BEAT
NORTH KOREA WITH GUIDED MISSILES
AND PRESIDENT TRUMP WITH HIS TWEETS


THERE IS WAR ALL AROUND US
UNREST ACROSS THE GLOBE
U.K. NOW HAS BREXIT UNLEASHED
AND HARRY HAS A BETROTHED


WHAT IS A BOY TO DO
WHEN OUR WORLD IS IN A MESS
JUST HAVE SOME CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM
AND PUT IT ALL TO REST

For all your frustration,
go bellow into the ear of the wind.

For all your unrest,
go whisper into the crush of the sea.

For all your aches,
Go sigh into the sheets of your slumber.

For all thoughts shouting in the night,
Go Find an ear
that gives you the time of day.

I’ve heard you talk about people from your past. I’ve seen your eyes stare off into traffic, never even blinking as their hollow names march out of your mouth. I’ve felt a cold air blow through the distance between you and them, the blood in your heart no longer pumps into their severed arteries. The skin of that part of you has gone grey in pallor. Your memories are stiff in rigor mortis, no longer pumping with thoughts of tomorrow. Instead of laying those memories to bed for another day, you bury them in their graves, only allowing them to become unearthed when someone wants to ***** their hands to find something to grab on to, something to plant themselves in.

I wish I would have known then
That I was digging my own
Place of Unrest.

Unbeknownst to me,
I was conditioned with unease.
Unbeknownst to me,
the lies could encapsulate everything.
Unbeknownst to me,
the unrest would result in unease.
Unbeknownst to me,
this caused me to expect the worst in the best of things.