Bottled Up In A Bottle

Bottled Up In A Bottle

Drenched in an addiction,
Helpless in every way,
Caught in a stupor,
Let it be night or day.

The quizzical gaze,
And the wounding words,
Nothing more painful than,
Terms like sharp swords.

When there is sanity,
On one of those days,
The righteous acts are,
Startling in every way.

Caught in a web,
Of respect or disgust,
Questions and answers,
I must have them, I must!
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Art piece on the right taken from: "http://inkslingerart.breedlink.com.au/"

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A Closed Book, With the Illusion of Being Open

A Closed Book, With the Illusion of Being Open

A familiar memory I pass,

A fragrance drifts by, a song I hear.
A transient feeling, nothing does last.
For I have come to realize,
The present engulfs the past.

I observe the path that I tread,
Anticipating the destination,,
I veer myself off track,
Recalling every word I’ve said,
For fear pulls me back.

The end will be the same,
Have I not learnt my lesson?
But the hope always lingers,
That this time, it may be different.

It almost sounds comical
That I see the outside perfect on paper,
For I know nothing about anything now,
But will I truly know everything ever?

Yes, there is a connection,
But what does it matter?
Is that really sufficient?
When I know the outcome,
Or convinced myself I do.
Maybe it just seems so.

I do not deny anything,
As I have done before.
I am trying to accept,
As I will from now on.
I know what I want,
Yet, I’m scared to even try.

Now, I chase my dreams,
Set on another dimension,
Another plane, another view,
Yet this thought still exists,
Will it be the same?
Or will it not?

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