Sometimes empty, sometimes full of feeling
Escaping from fear, yet, hesitant of the freedom
Looking away from the glaring light
That flows through the soulless skies

Outside there's rain
Pouring till the warm fear-ridden skies run dry
There's rain that can't be let inside the crevices
It'll flood prairies to drench a paltry mind full of vice

The heart doesn't respond to the warm smile
That kind, beady eyes and an understanding nature offer
On a cold, dead Tuesday night
It doesn't catch on fire in the damp air

It is paper thin, a fragile, brittle being that sways
To the light breeze that blows out the fire
Deep inside, whose warmth
It was never accustomed to, long ago

This twisted vessel with its worn sails
Buoyed toward the ocean for too long
I've been through these preternatural waters
Countless times, always turning back in vain

Sailing into the unknown amid the heavy gales
Hurtling into the distance where water turns into vapor
Levered by every wave that pushes along with the tide
I'm tethered by a thin thread, I turn to my heart

Now wait, from day to dusk
Come night, the stars will disappear
As more questions haunted me
They'll burn the battlements of your mind

Time often harrows those with the will to live
It brings with it profound sadness
And that's the narrow strait pushing us ahead
The oceans aren't meant for us

The mind ought to pour itself into logic
Against all notions, challenging the hindrances
Beyond all reasonable doubt
Building faith forever and ignoring the emotion

Despite having little hope left inside
Drowned in the oceanic scapes of blue and white
I'm washed by the distant sunset
Where the sun draws a line through blood red skies

Where one world ends, maybe another begins
To some the horizon may be worth reaching
But this is beyond the reach of my mortal vessel
And the mind can't fathom the distance

Yet it can take on raging storms
There is no moments of stillness for war-torn ships
So many have retreated into the night
Abandoning the journey

Hesitant on returning
Remaining blind to the brilliant sight
The piety disappears soon after
Only leaving behind a disturbed mind

Benign, hapless skies look upon the fierce eddies
That once threatened to carry them underneath
The way back takes with it the lilt of song
Only leaving behind a disturbed mind

The mind can take the beating of an arduous voyage
So show courage
In the face of utter defeat
Revealing the Achilles' heel of your spirit

You'll never hear the surface crack
But there are screams within the fiery depths
And I fear Death will take what I love most
When the structure falls, the rest won't hold

Still suspended in time
Still seeking an eternal sleep for the mind
So many times, the divine sages wander away
Into a dark copse of patterned leaves and interwoven roots

That the mildew has bowered the empty house
As gargoyles lay dry in a vast garden of vacant roses
Now barren, the thorns stick out
Scarring a mind in a state of constant fugue

It isn't my fault that this mind is ravaged by demons
It is shackled to the past when we waged destruction
It isn't my fault that the soul is a dusty tomb
It is at the mercy of time - a brief life of its own

Death will see the parts of your life
That you once held dear as memories
All as part of the incinerated earth
These possessions will become complete strangers to you

Erasing a fraying mind with pain
You'll spend years shifting mountains
So that swelling waves can fill the deserts once again
The sullied spirit can cleanse itself

Your dormant mind will never recover
From a lifelong journey of seeking forgiveness
The jagged ridges of rocky shores will hold back the tide
And soon, the dam will break unable to contain the past

Letting the waves of passion turn into violet roses
A violent desire turn into bruises
As virulent streams settle into the ocean
You'll be left with the remains of your soul

With every skipping heartbeat
There's are pauses echoing into the unknown
But like everything else, it is made of ether
And you carry it now for the rest of the way

If it means a glimpse of eternity
A moment of beauty
Then I've elevated myself in this love
It is a sinking feeling to be weightless, at times

Back into the unknown
Kicking, screaming, and tearing at the seams
The soul has fallen into an endless void
That the heart calls darkness

That the mind calls folly
That the world calls faith
That the memory calls love
And some of us call it an ocean

the
smell
of the
barbecue grill
taunts
my hunger pains
I walk on by
uninvited
with no place
to
go.

Every day it’s you who I see
I don’t know how to be
Here I stay thinking
       Out loud
Every day it’s you
I can’t live without you
I’m by your side
I watch you sleep at night
I’ll be holding you tight
Each night baby I’m here
Every moment it’s you
Every moment, every day

Be careful
when you decide
to sit down and rest.
You might take too long
and the sadness
might not leave.

No one’s here
to lend a hand,
so keep an eye
on the oil in your car,
the way your teeth
are falling apart.

Tend to your hurt.
Cradle it
rock it to sleep
against your
beating heart.

Drum your pooling blood
onto the page.
Write life.
Rest.

But please be careful,
the world keeps going,
even after death.

Affixed to the Lee–Enfield,
this blade, this trigger point,
stricken by ambush,
enters the melee
along the false edge,
cuts to the core,
like sympathizers of
William of Orange.

There are no daggers
apart from war,
just an ocean of
death and defeat,
its water,
its ever rising water,
swallows us whole.

Let yourself burn, let yourself be
Eaten away by the darkness you once preyed on,
Till all that's left is a puddle of wax (tears) on the plate (bed).

It's better to give out rather than to give in,
To cry and rage and scream and after that to lie exhausted.

Bloom like the rose after, coat in red and thorns sharper,
Unrelenting but its beauty brings comfort to eyes of lovers,
Rush not the pain of burning and blooming. Feel.
Not because you're weak but because you are stronger after.

Withered flowers reminds us that
Withering is fine.
Waters --in any shape they are--
Will bring the colors of us again.

The story of two people,
sitting in the gentle night.
They hold their hands
without impatient fear.
Maybe this is true intimacy?

Too many plans, too many
subtle strategies
in the hiding place—
everything to avoid
the pain after.

Longing for what could be,
we say goodbye
to the now,
that leaves so quickly.

Between words,
taming the common confusion,
we will never come any closer
to another human being.

Celebrating the quiet feeling
of comprehension,
absorbed by the paradox of facts—
above differences, imposed tattoos.

We are sitting in the deep,
friendly night,
holding entwined hands
with an ephemeral moment
of fulfilled, trusting intimacy.