The thought of art
is a wonderful start—
to explore yourself,
your impactful part.

The thought of art
is a wonderful start—
to believe your truth,
your dreams, your heart.

The thought of art
is a wonderful start—
to show, to lure,
to grow, be pure.

The thought of art
has a meaningful part—
to show the world
your love, your heart.

The thought of art
captivates your heart
and makes one wonder—
Is this the end, or just the start?

Black, space, satiated void,
a meaty elixir, romanticised steroid,
a lens through which we see the heart,
a core, a seed where life shall start.

I hope in deepest darkest dreams,
that life shall come as godly fiends,
to shame us all and show us splendour,
our childhood may we then remember.

When stars were bright and mighty things,
more than flame in frost,
they inspired our hearts and dreams,
the gifts that we have lost.

I look up and I see them each,
looking down on me.
worlds and stories I'd like to see,
but sadly cannot reach.

dear reader
youve been up for hours
you seem so tired.
staring silently while you're crawling quietly tracing reality quickly devouring all of the star dust beyond.
you slip violently
ducking beneath rabbit holes and roots
the water rushing up to meet you
a harsh reality greets you.
fresh palm air ghosting through thine whispers of hair and the seagulls they blare a snappy tune
a cookie to grow
a potion to shrink
honestly a story
to make you think
nonsense!
you cry you bemoan you scream
where are the jokes
there wasnt meant to be any
it was ment to have a point
to make people think
the end is never the end is never the end
your twisted mind starts bickering
two cheshire cats? tweedle dee tweedle doo
tick tock
stop that clock
the small blue bunny runs far away
children with screens
implanted in their tummies
oh so yummy
so delicious
so impure
the rapture of the gods
the magic of beyond
sweet candy houses
tall angry mouses
a dream or reality
who is to say
forced joliety
joy
thats my policy
:)

she has my voice,
only sweeter;
she has my notions,
only purer;
she has my pride,
only gentler;

she knows i’m hurt,
only better.

she means well;
is it… only a spell?
she breathes a song;
only, i cannot tell —
if she yearns for me,
or only mourns for me.

to me, it don't seem;
but i know —
she's only a dream.

One cosmos,
Countless planets,
One hundred and ninety-five countries,
Eighteen thousand islands,
Seven vast oceans—

And somehow, I found you.

What is it like
To be you
When they fall over
But you can't hold on

You play it cool
As you strum your guitar
And music fills the room
And that's why I'll always
Look up to you

What is it like
To take a step in your shoes
But there's too much to fill
When they are two sizes too big

Trapped in our own worlds
That we can't escape
Wondering what fate decides
But everyone knows
That curiosity killed the cat

What is it like
When you look at me
Who am I to you
Did you ever think of me as a friend?

Lord
As I’m washed clean by your blood
Please wash my ways as well
Reside within me
Belittle my desires
Let
Your
Love
Encapture my whole being
Leave no room for worldly interests  
I humbly beg O God
Please

It may sound narcissistic,
Paint me as a cynic,
But I must admit,
I sometimes surprise myself,
That everyone’s lives,
Are just as complicated as mine.
Everyone thinks,
Everyone feels,
Everyone cries,
And everyone dies.
The way people act sometimes,
Makes you wonder if there’s a thought beyond their eyes,
But there is,
Just like there is behind mine.
We are all complex people,
With desires and dreams,
Goals and aspirations,
Pain and fears,
Ups and downs,
Strengths and weaknesses,
It’s enlightening.