Writers block

Writers block
My time are words
Written and thrown away
I've made a new collection of words
They are balled
up in the trash bin across from me
And every night I ponder
and squander my seconds
like pennies tossed inTo a fountain 
There just hopeless wishes
for the janitor to collect. 
And Right now my time
and money are all spent. 

Broken, 
is the dead space 
when you enter a room 
and yet you leave no trace.
 You can define the hearts meaning 
by connecting the stars. 
My torment and love for you  
is too much!
 Let go!
 My soul is tired of chasing
 and running away from you! 
And Yet. 
when night falls 
And the darkness embraces me.
And there is no calm for my sleep
And again your in my dreams
And still 
I Find you 
gone.

How the world is at night

How the world is at night.  
When all is quiet,  
Oh! I hate the living days,  
A winter night seem quiet as death,  
My soul is screaming,  
From a heart that is burning.  
Little things seem monstrous and mundane at night.  
How is it that time rolls forward  
Taking all it bumps into Like a tar ball?  
We are just the flies,  
Were stuck in it,  
We can move  
but we cannot leave.  
it's been said that the things  
that scare us most,  
is what we are drawn to.  
Take the moth in love with the flame.  
But there is something about listening to the night,  
And stretching your ears as far as you can hear.  
Draw a breath,  
And hold it,  
And after the cars  
And after the planes  
And after the bars  
And after the city  
And after the oceans  
exhale.  
And in the quiet,  
silence of space,  
can you hear an unintelligible whisper?  
Is that god?  
Is he still up?