Pray

And the pure visage,

of beauty and unrest.

Loose, wild, enchanting,

a glass of water in the eyes.

The turn of the brow,

pain, shame, some pleasure.

The halt of the beat,

the silence of the dead.

God.

Submission.

Beauty.

Regret.

Despair

Despair is hollow. No matter how much you feel, the numbness of loss is like wet sand in your palms. It's slipping away, but it never does leave you. All the things you wish you could've done differently, you know you really couldn't have. “What went wrong?”, you ask yourself. You went around and became who you wanted, and it wasn't enough. In such times, your existence becomes an irrelevant detail.

You are sitting on the pile of your memories, tearing them one-by-one to find that one mistake that changed everything. Drained of effort, you dive from the top of the grief mound in to the sea of self-loathing. Only you never hit home. The free fall lasts the entire day, the entire night, the entire week, the entire summer. You scramble for the light at the end of the black rainbow. You move ahead, and you pupils widen, your fear rises with every further foot on the grass. You step on the glass of your desires and crunch it into pieces. A dissolving line of blood stains the path that you took to get here. The cave is long, the cave is hot. Barefoot, sans clothes. Your flesh hurts from running in the city of the unknown. Your eyes throb from the absence of sleep. You float in the little pool of red mist, drowning you up till the mouth. You try to breathe, but all you take in is a vague recollection of your misery. Your screams are tired bubbles bursting on the surface of a thick, liquid void. So, you let go. You let the blackness fill your lungs. You close your eyes.

Then you realize that you're alone.

And the dream is over.

When fate defeats intent, pain is the only peace, the only hope.

“A warning sign,

I missed the good part, then I realized,

I started looking and the bubble burst,

I started looking for excuses,

Come on in,

I've gotta tell you what a state I'm in.

I've got to tell you in my loudest tone,

I started looking for a warning sign.

When the truth is, I miss you,

Yea the truth is, that I miss you so...

A warning sign,

You came back to haunt me and I realized,

She was an island and I passed you by,

You were an island to discover,

Come on in,

I've gotta tell you what a sate I'm in,

I've gotta tell you in my loudest tone,

I started looking for a warning sign.

When the truth is, I miss you,

Yea the truth is, that I miss you so...

And I'm tired, and I'm tired,

I should not let you go...

So I crawl back into your arms,

Yes I crawl back into your arms,

and crawl back into your arms,

yes I crawl back into your arms...

Open arms...”

Choo

The whistling choo,

ignites a million hearths.

My breath melts,

and settles in a sigh.

Your wet lips say,

what your eyes can hide.

The glances seem lost,

and the summer smells dry.

I reach to your core,

in a blind grope for light,

you nudge me a little,

and kibosh a fresh bird's flight.

I'll cleave you open,

give me a weary night,

farewell awaits till then,

the swollen heart tries.

Unfinished

And you attempt to divine,

what's beyond your reach.

A realm of fantasies,

a world of unchartered destiny.

You have the world,

and then you have you.

The choice is for the strong,

a one you've already made.

A life of conformity,

dreams are uncomfortable with.

Restful.

You emerge out of a forest,
of exotic fantasies.
You hop on an eagle,
and show me the world.

You show me tenderness,
that you hide from the rest.

Your breath is moist,
your lips quivery.
You touch me,
and go through me.

The insides of your cheeks,
melt my nervous tongue.
The sultry warmth of your skin,
fills my chest with desire.

The smell of your hands,
stays in mine for days.
The shell of your embrace,
completes the aching wait.

You stare at me,
and reach down inside,
you pick those burning embers,
and splash my spleen with ice.

You sit with me,
and give meaning to this unrest.
You listen to me,
and plug my heart with rest.

Fly

Clear as day,
this night seems.
The end of this time,
the winter means.

On these evenings,
the breezy moors,
will sing again,
for the crazy moon.

Tress and lanterns,
and the endless stares,
a bridge over the river,
a world without care.

I promise,
if you'll wait,
your fingertips,
will dance on mine again.

Eccentricity

A kid,
a misfit,
an oddball.

I give too much,
and take a lot.
Am too much trouble,
and a lot of loss.

A lot of personality,
but not much talk.
A complex inconvenience,
am I not.

Stop caring,
stop wondering,
kids need to be left on the pavement,
to tell them they are alone.