Well, You and your thoughts
Make my inner- waves flow off
Unto some abyss of silence absolute
And chillness horrendous.

True, the course dreads me often,
Though not of the words' worth,
Nor of any terms unusual
You ‘ve set in pain's pursuit.

Awful afflictions do linger still,
Like those unwilling mass of haze
On a winter morning house-roof
That's soulfully hesitant to melt off.

The chariot of emotions,
Having lost wheels in panic-field,
Fumble in infinite dense of
Pains; chaste and unnamed.

I name not what squirms
In this modest, but raw verse,
Yet, appeal, Oh, soul blessed,
Dive not unto its dark depth.

Pray you to know me better,
Welcome and rejoice too,
An admirer ardent at your soul's sill;
In shapes and nature varied.