A Strategy Game

Trembling beneath is a soluble motion,
Trickling down softly under if further,
Teasing the needer with subtle deception,
Trenching he, depicting it as a feather.

"My nausea is getting worse," needer complains,
"My cozen nausea!" needer exclaims,
"My perscribed nausea?" needer questions,
"My vile disruptive nausea." needer states.

Whipping around in definitive manners,
Whistles the blown fortress of needer,
Waters calm, yet drowning of planners,
Why my eye, fly in the face of feeder.

Save me now needer, you're the only one left,
Defensive although not considered defending,
Cry out! Sing for this is my only life,
And I am not sure why we just keep pretending.

Untitled for now

I am the fool from Paul's hill,
Descending from it in question,
No longer will I be still,
Although this stance my passion,

Round and Round I continue to go,
Dismantling what is once believed,
Never interrupting silent flow,
And still I will not be deceived,

Drowning after leaving that hill,
I give heed to no ones suggestion,
Even unconscious aspects I kill,
Leaving only conscious discussion,

Seemingly it seems I find a new low,
Situations arise where I can conceive,
And yet I find it difficult, just show,
This tension is all I must relieve.