I have broken down inside of these poems,
Each one a declaration of war
*
My heart is made of cartilage
The softer flesh has, in support
Of my deficiencies, hardened
*
Time does not resolve
Every dilemma
Without interference
I am certain to remain
Between the lines
*
I have spent too much time
Deciphering to create,
In any case, the void does not
Favor innovation
*
My muse is full of detours and distinctions
Sometimes I wonder what a topic implies
About the state of my immortal soul
My fictional works being especially gregarious
Lack the armament necessary to safeguard their secrets
*
I like to feel the words, which given my execution
Lift up from the page like Braille
I don’t need ink to solidify my grievances
They are bourne in my blood, like ruin
mindlovemisery 
it touches the very soul and the heart can feel the pain in every line.
I am glad that it moved you. Thanks so much for your lovely words
its lovely, I like it.
Thanks =)
i feel this so much…
Thank you, that is a tremendous compliment
Reblogged this on mindlovemisery and commented:
Finished the book, I have ordered my proof copy and once that is done woot!
Very profound!! 🙂
Thanks Helen =)
O! War and the void–neither credit innovation and individuality … I appreciate how this poem wends its way from the heart, inside out and back to the ruins within. (It takes just the opposite to write this way!)
Thank you so much Susan!