Vowels and consonants

Pool together into words

As my emotions rain down

The grim and grit

Of every memory clings

To each sentence

Until I step in

Then they collect on me

Dampening fingertips

And soaking my tongue

I jump in

Splashing out thoughts

Until I am coated in my imagination

I stomp through

The puddles of letters

Saturating me with words

And sentences are dripping

From my chin

i'm sentenced to house arrest
by my own fear

Completing the Pattern
by Michael R. Burch

Walk with me now, among the transfixed dead
who kept life’s compact and who thus endure
harsh sentence here—among pink-petaled beds
and manicured green lawns. The sky’s azure,
pale blue once like their eyes, will gleam blood-red
at last when sunset staggers to the door
of each white mausoleum, to inquire—
"What use, O things of erstwhile loveliness?"

Keywords/Tags: death, sentence, dead, cemetery, graveyard, mausoleum, corpses, manicured, lawn, flowers, pink, petals, blue, sky, red, sunset

I wish to stretch out eternity into a more tender, finite time.

This must be destiny

I hear echoes of warnings from my former self ricocheting in my head

This must be deserved for the plethora of ways I have hurt people

To mark me with pain I will remember and maybe be a better person

This must be fate
There was no other way out

I still hope things will improve but I think this suffering was intended and therefore my punishment must be served

Pretending that your feelings doesn't exist is one of the worst punishment a man can do to himself.