"Identification please," said the short stout grumbling man, leaning over his desk.

"I didn't know I needed my identification," tears began to spill like a waterfall as the hostile monster glared over me, quickening the rate of my usually steady heart beat.

"Reveal your purpose boy," his cold dark eyes causing me to shudder.

"My father,” I stuttered, "he was-he was in the fire-"

"I'll just borrow your horoscope then," he remitted, allowing the gate to hover, permitting my presence into the cold cemetery. "You're quite the project aren't you?" He laughed just as everyone did drawing light to my negligent natal chart. The concentration of water elements left me cosmically and comically imbalanced.

My breath started to expand as my love for the angry old troll softened. My frown learned to reverse into a smile, as I nudged my horse forward with the tap of my heel.

"Thank you sir, it was nice to meet you," I said, nodding my head.

"Sorry for your loss," he grumbled in apology.

Before I could consider a response, the gate pressed firmly behind me, his glower in my past, the stench of death to my front. I struggled a swallow as the stones symbolizing life long gone painted a nauseating aroma of nostalgic noises silently stirring before me.

"I'm here father," I whispered to the wind, willing me forward, willing me strength I hadn't the courage to muster on my own. "I'm here."

Emotions are fluctuations in the inherent comprehension of consciousness through countless waterfalling lenses of perception. These states of being like water, flowing upwards and down, streaming furiously fast yet stagnantly still. A drop of water part of the ocean yet differs ever so. Emotions range in severity, a scale debatable at best like beads of sweating anger or perhaps a perspiration of pleasure. A constant fluid form, malleable to the situation, reflective of the soul. Like the glassy outcast pond beaming a wavering figure back in the glow of full moonlight. Its silhouette seems certain with depths beyond the reaches, and a bottom unknown. Which lens is chosen alters the experience. Emotions are the misting fog clouding a judging mind or a drenched clarity of awareness, soaking the senses in a reality of its own.

The emotion in which the mind chooses to gather its awareness in a sea of thoughts, dictates the overall experience of the soul's situation. A situation in the current observation of conscious existence. The derivation of the emotion retrieved from a tidal of previous patterns waving their way into the present. Each with their own set of controls physically and mentally challenging the vessel in ever which way, tormenting the soul for better or worse. The mind chooses most favorably to the emotion in which it is felt the most; as this presents with potability in expression. Past emotions saturated in reminiscence of the current events transpiring, leave traces of what is to come subconsciously in action. The emotion knows what has been and therefore can predict what may come, creating a bank of states of being. Almost as if waiting to feel as they did before and understanding how they must feel when it is to resurface one more. To observe, one may consider a situation in which someone's money for lunch had been stolen from their purse. Maybe this individual had the same experience as a child at school. In this situation, triggering a predictive stream of thoughts to trickle to the conceptions evoking an emotion resemblant of what felt before. Potentially the individual is aware of this circumstance and chooses to transmute the feeling that had been met with discomfort into a new perspective within itself instead of drowning in sorrow. Perhaps they decide to seek a higher learning of such experience conjoint in peace and grace. This loss allows the gain of patience and restraint, causing the individual to sit in their hunger with respect and gratitude for the dinner waiting home for them. One might also consider the individual broke, perhaps this the last $8 to their name, now out of money, without lunch. This may create an abrasive emotive reaction to that of an individual who could withdraw more money from their bank in a moment's walk around the corner. Then again, it is most likely the individual to react in the way most would, as they would each time this situation and ones similar to occur. While our emotions of annoyance, sadness, and anger may all relate, expression and state may differ similarly. The emotion may be felt in infinite ways, while up to the soul in experience, it is preferable to puddle in past percolations of familiarities to the subconscious mind. A previous pattern like a solid rope to swing over a canyon of dark water seems safer than the unfamiliar strings of possible potential to latch onto in even the most thoughtful of observations.

Emotions felt to the vessel of a human are an intricate ever evolving process that can be applied to a bending spectrum floating in fluctuations. Throughout time the generic potential of reactions felt physically and mentally are tailored to the collective experiences felt generationally in the application of current situational reactions. Those born in times of economic struggles may feel a surge of scarcity in obsessive attachment to topics such as financials and food security throughout the duration of their vessels' human experience.Whereas those born in times of social safety may associate these topics with pride and excitement in generational sanctity of fear in regards. Patterns present through the duration of life to many, interchangeable to attention. Beings in the days of hunting and gathering may associate deeper with the fear of running from wild animals in an inhuman developed landscape. A specific emotional response foreign to the present humans who dwell in cities of metropoly untouched by animals larger than a pesky pigeon or domesticated dog. To counter, present day humans are feigned in a hurricane of unpredictability in terms of technological advancements. Thus, creating the sharpest spectrum of emotions to be felt in flucations tempestuous in a nature of constance. The spectrum of emotions woven like a web within the mind is ever expanding, like a tap never to be turned off. Overflowing possibilities with no end in sight as expansion is only ever inevitable. A wavelength everlasting, obstructively unpredictable and calmly congestible all in the same current of reality.

If emotions to be derived in the past, comfortability of a situation surging to the manifested forefront once again, then the topic of how they come to be is a discussion left to be discussed. The baby is born crying in a state of distress, how are they to know a physical response to a mental stimulus observing existence for the first time? We name this response of distress in accordance to the association of tears and terror wailing from their newly birthed beings. This being the first glimpse of awareness would suggest a response unprocessed. And tears being attributable to many emotions, how can it be fixed to one labeling emotion. The commencement of life summoning an emotive state so similar to be funneled into a web of diverse rippling reactions to transpire in a few days to come. Children become wildly worrisome to parents universally as their personalities develop to each their own regardless of even neutral environments to souls alike. Unpredictable in nature despite the degree of forceful upbringing to sway a child of certain reactiveness. This is considered in studies of nature vs nurture in cases particular to the tendencies of twins, showcasing the vast differences in emotional states of being and perception with emphasis on environment. Emotions beginning in the soul are planted in the mind and watered with awareness to bloom into the reality of the vessel. This understanding places importance on the terminology of the soul, in belief the soul older than the body, now observatory to this vessel in evolutionary transition. How may past lives and states of being crest impressional imprints within the experience of the vessel? If a soul drowned in a life existing before the present, they then would arguably hold an inexplicable fear towards bodies of water. As is seen in many through the topic of unidentifiable fears rooted in the well known verbology of a  phobia. These fluctuating mental impressions are called samskaras in theories of karma. This theory, fluid in statement of understanding, alludes to past actions of previous lifetimes reflecting present manifestations of happenings in the individuals existence. Therefore shaping with hindrance or without, the emotional state of being simultaneously. The crying baby may shed tears in reaction to the fluorescent lighting of the hospital room, a harsh wakening from the womb. Or perhaps the shrieking shrills of their sobbing mother terrifies the child. Perhaps, the baby wails with enough power to fill a basin in fear of doing all this again. Then again, this would be consuming these tears are not of joy, anger, or any other unlimited surge of emotion potential in feeling. An emotion then to be understood as an eternally infinite experience recurring and adaptable, differing to all, may be the same all at once.

The river flows in a repetitious pattern, and will continue to do so until an external force is presented to disrupt the unbreaking stability. The external force connected to the self is present within the whole, a force each their own power to revel in. Whether with awareness or without the internal and external pressures all swim from the same center. Suddenly a new force of life digs a tunnel spouting from the river, digging a trench large enough to restructure the path of the river, creating a branched stream of consciousness. Over little or long time, just as prominent it can channel as its sourcing. The mind is like a river with the same thoughts drifting about until conscious intention to break a damn. Instilling a new perception welcomed to circulate in a path of its own. Many ride the waves presented before them mindlessly for the remainder of consciousness in this vessel, while few choose to chip a trail of their own. Hydrating the mind in a new way, able to take an experience that may have been felt before, yet choosing a response of their own. Thus structuring the river emotively to their own, cultivating a new stream of state, established within the mind. A river may break out any which way it desires, thoughts may process and reflect in the hall of mind mirrors each different than the next. It is up to the soul to scrape the rocky bank for a direction unobserved, to step to a new frame of mind. The unobserved lands to harness, the reflective perception blindly avoided until now generates a new experience. Awakens, activates, remembers a new emotion. The emotion creates a new experience within itself. One may choose to take the river laid before them, a current strong to support them similarly to before, whatever before may have been. One may also choose to create a river of their own, tens of rivers of their own. A river of sadness may transmute to a bank of happiness just as a storm of anger may generate a tide of grief. The soul attainable of the power of a tsunami, able to process tidings of force in thousands of rivered mind patterns.

Emotions, everlasting fluctuations shifting the conscious creation perceived to each and to all in perilous potential. Situations arise in an obviousness of expression retrieving emotion through the body, mind, and soul. While each on their own path, and each to have previously walked a path of their own, emotions ripple in pooling patterns to be bathed and drained. Some discarded with ease, whereas others suffocatingly seemingly unavoidable. Some welcomed and loved, others fearful inflictions. Forced and left, created and cherished. Changing from second to second, malleable before, after and during. In a sea of thoughts where infinite drops of water may nourish the seeded thoughts in the garden of the mind. Emotions are the planted expressions of perception. A garden grown by the self, shiftable in tender care, with exponential creative combinations of life. The soul an expansive ocean watering the mind in a miscous of emotional fluctuations so deeply rooted into being and crafting a perception of its own.

A fear of creation, yet trusting in fate,

A universe of clarity, rusty and opaque,

A purpose full of daggers,

Poison pointed to the chest of my own,

Surrounded by others, yet painfully alone,

Bruises smudged, with blossoms of ignorance,

An unkempt garden trodden through perseverance,

Creating catastrophe, destined to heal,

Wilting like a flower,

To be discarded like fruit eaten from its peel,

Wondering what will happen, as if it isn't so,

To remain stagnant, or rooting to grow?

Colouring the lines,

Carefully tracing its edges,

To paint a new picture, or embody the silhouette destined?

Grip the ground, yet gaze to the stars,

You may relish in your presence, but you may travel far,

Create the unknown, tapping into potential,

You are the universe, and so your power is existential

I miss you, I think,

Though incompletely,

I cannot comprehend why,

The pain of your existence drove me mad,

Yet now empty I feel I could cry,

You miss me, I'm sure,

For how could you not?

The miscommunication allowed our safeness to rot,

We wilted away,

Caught in tangles of the opposite breeze,

Your memories became misconstrued,

Allowing me to miss you like a tease,

I miss you, I believe,

Though I tell myself this cannot me true,

For all those who have ever loved me, leave me feeling used

To suffer is to share an existential experience to be perceived by all humans who chose the journey of the soul on Earth. While suffering is a shared experience, it creates the deepest level of discomfort within the being. These hardships must be faced in order to propel the opportunity of ascending into a higher version of ourselves. This suffering is important in our evolution of learning and shifting, transcending to our next self whatever that may look or feel like. Suffering causes stress, putting the body into a state of dis-ease, we may look at these vibrations and choose to rest in the discomfort. To become diseased. Or we may choose to use our suffering to better ourselves, better the Earth, better all. In betterment I find peace, enjoyment in this existence, understanding purpose with awareness, and aligning with our passions truly. In this betterment I find deeper gratitude for my health, and generate this abundance deep into my being. Suffering is the hardest part of life, but maybe also the most crucial component to awakening. Suffering allows us the chance to slumber through life in pain, or prosper with a shift of perception and intention.

I'm screwed in the head,

They said, the light flashed blindly overhead,

Worth nothing more,

The doctor said my state a prescribed horror.

Phillip? I ask, scared for his answer,

You'll be fine he ensures me, just one more mood enhancer,

I can't swallow another, not one more pill,

The doctor named Phillip said I am extremely ill.

I wonder why, my head is so screwed up,

Perhaps when I was young, I had some sort of mental stirrup,

Okay, but reluctant, I'll these ones now,

Wondering of the side effects, and if this I should allow.

I'm screwed in the head,

Impulses to guide me as I mend,

Doctor Phillip I reject your help,

Heal on my own, will I find my truest self.

A sudden fling and I'm lost in vibration. As my somewhat pleasant meadow pasture has absolved from all fields of vision. Twinge to the third eye, and a darkening hue. This is when my projection had turned nightmarish, I wish not to pursue.

A maze of rod iron steel, cages of unbeknownst creatures. An unrecognizable self, forced to crawl, as my presence becomes known to an overseer. Suddenly, I'm forced to hurry, chased as I cry. My body pained with disease as I evoke an insinuation I may die.

I'm aware of my soul, not attached to this body. But still forced in struggles as I ascend lengths upwards and downwards across this prison so foggy. An evil lurking, manifestations of potent energy. I fear for this vessel as I creep with lethargy.

After what feels like must have been hours. Land and wide open space, perhaps now help I could discover. Still I must run, now able to stand, the maze dissolving. Bullets now surround me through shots revolving.

I wish to leave, I wish not to pursue. With usual ability to escape nightmares, how could this horror feel so real, so true? A heavy breath, one not like my own. My body suffering, but I must mask, and silence each groan.

Hours drag on, running in fear. I wonder now what would happen, if I just surrendered, dropping down here. And so I wept, and I bled, I remember the pain. But after this experience, never would I have to perceive again.

In nightmares, I wish not to pursue, I find purpose when I am rooted till the situation runs through. A journey, one that's dimensional, through realities untouched, do nightmares as these leave me to feel like a speck of useless dust.

So serious,

Why, may I inquire?

So still you stir,

You ache and admire,

Tussle your hair,

In simple unrest,

Your eyes in silence glares,

Cause the void to digest,

You sit there so blankly,

Not a word, not a stifle,

A cavern of coldness,

The echo of a rifle,

Why so serious?

As longingly I wait,

Hopeful for your return,

Or a warm smile to fate.

Sex is sacred,

Sex is a scar,

Sex is a portal,

Sex is a bar.

In unacknowledged denials,

In unapologetic agreeance,

A noisy NO, produced in silence,

Eager affirmative, attentive in lenience.

Bodies of masterpiece,

Can so easily be ripped to shred,

Honoured and worshipped,

Like the Goddess of bed.

To feel a touch,

That no longer lingers,

An unwanted grasp,

She remembered the prod of each dirtily unwanted finger.

To take the body of another as your own,

She screams and cries,

In your sickening delight,

You are overjoyed as she continue to deny.

How could you dishevel such an experience?

To cause fear in each stranded stare,

How could you ever smile again?

Knowing was you did to her deeply unfair.

Sex is her decision,

But you chose to write this chapter,

Karma is real,

Brace for your imminent capture.

For through this portal,

Ever so abused,

This scar you created,

Grooving her used.

Sex is a bar,

Words couldn't express,

How dare you force her,

In others she still feels that sickening caress.

Sex, she takes it back,

For herself this time,

Maybe not yet,

But she finds peace in poetry with rhyme.

"My writing to me is an expression. A projection of truth, one my words can illustrate vividly. With writing I feel I can authenticate rawness, to transport others into the embodiment of feeling. Feeling that in which I share through poems, stories, and streams of consciousness ebbing through patterns of thought. I write to bring comfort, to bring excitement, and an understanding to the deepest pondering possible. I write to create and with my writing creation is endless. Through this limitlessness I am found, and through my writing, I hope I find all...So how do you like the wine?"