I bottle them up.
How I wish I could cast them to sea,
so they could float to an island,
and belong to someone else.

I can feel them boiling.
Ready to flow over my minds edge,
and cascade down to form puddles,
be wary where you step now.

I see them burst out.
In a flurry of short-lived break-outs,
leaving emptiness within me,
until creation brings more.

Justine 1998©