A solid wall there

Holding back the frantic words

I HATE writer's block


Let your fingers run

Let them dash along the path

Yellow pages path


Fall explains itself

Fall, the falling of empires

Summer soldiers killed


One cannot ever grasp

The stubborn spirit of air

As it tickles leaves


By oneself alone

Swallowed in hatred of me

Some one needs a friend


Sharing is God's gift

Two have possession of one

Fair amounts only


Love is a sickness

One of not the heart or mind

But of each other


Confusion is cruel

It leaves you empty-handed

It has no mercy


Names are simply words

Where would be without them?

Us? Isolated?