Outwards Silent

What a stupid name for a poem.
But unconcious fleetings demand to be written down.
Untouched, unadulterated, and legit.

I know not my intentions
Have no plan for a flow
a rhyme structure, theme, or even a message
other than "be here now"

So let's do that together, right now.

3...
2...
1...

We are now basking in the eternal precipice of NOW.
What a strange, surreal feeling, like we're meant to be.
Seperated in togetherness, together in time.
The space between lives, the pause between sentences.
The lexigraphical tounge twisters of yesterday's yore.
Big words, what a bore.
Tunnel vision set in, and the world is a blur.

My Muse, my love, my music,
Where hast thou gone?

The silence is deafening, the void is vast.
Some things, I suppose, are best left in the past.