-- More words from times of reflection, insanity consumes me
in those times. And... Safe to say I make no sense.. For
this poem I use a wax method. Drop random drops of wax onto
paper. Randomly, all over.. Write words around the wax. It
prevents you from forming correct sentences.. It helps me to
open up to feelings rather than constrict myself to proper
writing.. Which is something I do not aim for when writing,
properness. Try it. Use colored wax, then when it peels off
not only does it leave color, but it makes it somewhat
transluscent. So on the paper following that piece, you can
write words to show through the see through wax spots. --

Here I sit.
Object of release... 
Firmly...
Nestled it is.
In my releaser.
Planted on receiver.
Receiver of all.
Pain. 
Glory.
Sadness.
Excitement.
Love.
Anger.
Hate.
Happiness.
And...
In its rarest form.
The feeling of..
Nothingness.
Burdens I so helplessly spring onto you. 
Reward?
With good comes bad good receiver.
Or.. 
Did I say, of backwards meaning?
Indeed I did. 
But often it is...
In truest form..
You say what you feel to mean rather than intend to mean..
Truth.
Purity.
Purest form.