Poems from wildwise
[I] approach the tipping point
the straw that broke [my] back.
at a loss for words
expression has no expression, is not an expression...
isolation.
seclusion.
the crowded emptiness of popularity
the silent longing and the 'bottomless pit'.
maybe a self-imposed quarantine....
They don’t realize it
But they do
They are expected to know everything
They are expected to be perfected
By imperfect people
They are...
even my confusion is abstract. I never
took art class, so I don't know how to
interpret myself. like I'm a Dead Sea
Scroll- I feel ages...
hearing the ancient tale
and with a shiver
feel a connection
with the mind of ancestral souls
staring into the song of the stars
heart...