Sitting in an interior desolution, looking about,
focusing on nothing important.
Feeling around inside, searching for peace or
tranquility, finding none while sitting on the
verge of eternity.
Copulating thoughts and processes while inter-
changing forms of feelings.
Bending backwards through a mind's hallways,
unable to find any sort of refuge there.
no respite for the on going thinking of the mind you depicted well, i like it..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nice write oh no refuge found when we are sad and can't tell any one, we always tend to look inside for a way out. but sometimes we'll feel more lost and dreadful thank you