When it comes to intelligence,
maybe it doesn't really matter if it is human born or human made, as long as it is humane.

He is the volcano
erupting blazing heat
that could either destroy you
or initate rebirth - love born out of ash.

I wanted infinite recognition.
The kind of power that is unquestioned.
Fused by desires running wild, uncontrollable and mad with jelousy.
I needed to see what havoc could be created by mere existence, and to choose by whim who to grant toxic grace of body, passion and darkness.
Can it all end in a final night of no survivors?
A patchwork design of scars and mutilation?
My question still remains.
Is there a hero to resurrect an angel monster born?
Turning a lesser god into salvaged humanity?

I only want to love you,
for the shortest of time,
since moments are the only thing we will remember.
Unaccounted blips in eternity.
You don't know me.
Have never met me.
Talked to  me,
or felt me.
Does that make loving one another impossible?
I hope not.
Because it might be the only chance we hold
if we believe in destiny.

Little man,
You've been the one unreserved,
to give unconditional love.
Your legacy leave me desolate,
bereft and once more re-awakened.
Today I give the last rites
to follow you half-way
to the end of your journey.
And what haunts me the most
beside the hollow pit in my heart is -  did I give you enough tenderness, devotion and proof of your place in my life?
To make you happy,
content and fulfilled?
Too late now to remedy anyhow.
Still, I'm wrapping your now cold body in the cloth of our memories and sing you to sleep for the last time.

I envy the overarching morning light, her ability to travel any place. The affinity to marry day with night. Being the rising sun for the falling rain.
Darkly jealous I want to stake my claim, with shattering storms unquenched,
but I let her touch your body anyway.
She'll caress it softer than I ever can or would.
And if she awakens you with love aroused from dreams clenching secret gasps.
Know it's my thoughts carried through to you...

Torrents of my dark and molten heat ripping sense and traitorous heart apart.
You're brandished like a tattoo on my soul. I've imprinted the silhouette of you.
And in the bleak of the forfeited night.
She'll bring your touch for me to hold. A treasure for cold and lonely nights to keep,
when your embrace will be the only ember that can warm
my sobbing winter's bones.

So did I worship you enough?
Did I compose a love story in dreams
that could rip time and universe apart?
I hope I might...
Since I could draw the map of you by heart. Your skin forever branded on my lips,
and the taste of your whispers forever shaped on my tongue.

His graceful fingers softly brushed
over my thigh in a languid stroke,
sending a parade of shivers along. 
Slanting him a sideways glance, 
meeting blue sky experience
embedded in a roadmap of life weariness.
With a crooked smile and a raised
eyebrow he simply stated;
-Had we been born in the same era
I’d make **** sure these legs 
would never walk out on me.

The imprint of his hand stayed 
as a melancholic afterthought
long after I had wrapped up
the meeting and left for the airport.
Unfortunately the flight 
did not include time travel,
which has been a top priority
on my wish-list lately...

All my life I've been lost.
And all my life
I hoped to be found.

Is it a state of mind,
to always stay behind when advancing?
To deliberately lose stephold when gaining ground.
Does it mean loss of an era when reaching a new beginning?

I don’t ask for space. I take it.
I walk into rooms with my head high - not because I know all the answers, but because I know my voice matters.
I don’t shrink to fit comfort.
Not in tone, not in clothes, not in ambition.
My presence is not an apology.
My strength is not a threat, unless you fear change.
I don’t wait to be chosen.
I lead. I speak. I claim credit where it’s earned.
I don’t smile to soften the truth. I deliver it, clearly, and let it land.
I don’t work twice as hard to prove I belong. I work with precision to build what others can't even see yet.
I am not the exception. I am the evolution.
I listen. I read between words. I lead with instinct and insight.
I see dynamics you miss. I hold silence like a sword.
I know when to speak and when to let the silence do the cutting.
I will be labeled - bossy, intimidating, cold, ambitious.
Let them call me names. I’m not here for comfort.
I’m here for impact.
I don't walk alone.
I raise others with me. I name names in rooms of power.
I am ally, mentor, co-conspirator.
And if you think you can box me in, you should’ve built a bigger box.
I’m not just surviving the system. I’m rewriting it.
I don’t just belong here. I am the future of this room.
Watch me.

The breaking dawn of the new year
came with shortness of breath.
Heartstuttering chaos
built and reinforced by yesteryear.
The vigile do not fall asleep - do not fall asleep.
Don't die on my watch.

The moment you thought was gone - still lingers