Dead Dreams IIAn emptiness that eatsNothing is left for the fruitfulness of our bondsTogether we hold stillBut apart we break into shattered pieces of our pasts.Why is an onslaught of misdemeanored causes.No one's will is enough to wretch us freeForsaken and tainted we standOur fingers interlocked in a dance of subtlety
Dead Dreams ITick tick tick goes the bombDead dead dead goes its inhabitants.Bye to our livesHello to our endsWishful thoughts mean more than airBut our breaths cannot grasp our needsForever fallen here we land in our falls.
Death of My RitualPray, just pray a day once moreThe faith of our father's will keep us dear.A silence of love shall dream anewAs the pilgrimage of children laugh till dawn.The words are meaningless if the letter is oldFor the need of the ancients have come to pass.
Come of AgeThe dance of the abdominals ends in tragedyAs leaves of the foliage come to pass.Come the end of constellations undoneAnd still see you not.The mentions of entries are here to stay.If only our hearts could be swayed that way.Feet of fallen create the pyreAs the ashes of tears hold those truths.
My Weak TruthI can't save youAll of you out thereCan't become the chosenNot even if I cared.My faults may bury meMy fears bring on my deathAnd my heart threatens to pauseIn a swift suicideAs my mind wraps itself in a twist.The paper in my pocketStalling the truth that shall come.The sleepless come welcomedAnd the dawning forgottenfor shadows are rememberedAnd the light turned off.I can't bring myself to care anymoreIt keeps tearing me apart.
Lost SelfHere comes my memoryI lost it long agoLocked within the raindropsbleeding from the sky.Broken came the piecesdropped without regretScreaming for the recognitionof the greedy blind.Falling toward the centershaping what can beonly to ignore it allAs the freedom fails to ringinside my lifeless heart.
I Tell You NotPlace me in a cornerand leave me here to dieMy suicidal triviahas succumbed into my mind.Unlike your washy processI always get it rightFollowing through this nightmareof justice served real colda wonderland of echoesof a land forever grandwith an outdated legendBringing forth the lies.cuz if I were to tell youthe truth of which I knowThen I'd have to kill youSo they can still ignore meUpon this empty cornerof which I make my home.
Letter To Myself As YouHi…How Are You?I'm…well I don't exist.So I guess that meansI can't really say I'm fine.It I did, I'm sure I would be.Fine that is. Then againConsidering that I don't existYet I'm here "talking" to youMeans I'm a figment of yourImagination. That is…well thatMeans…that you are indeedInsane. I'm sorry, it mustBe hard for you to understand.I'm sure if you check your pocketYou'll find that slip of paper I gaveYou. You know which one.The one to remind you that you are saneWhile you're insane. Check I assure youIt's there. I lie not. You found itDidn't you. Heh I knew you would.After all your mind is gone. HowElse would I be able to placeThat scrap of paper in your pocket?I'm bored now. I find your lack ofA clear mind bothersome. Your denialSuffocates me. After all you fellInto society's open arms. What didYou expect to have happen to you?To go there is to say farewellto yourself. The you in your mind.The one you who holds the doorAnd knows when to sc
Slumbering DoorwaysI do not think I shall find sleep tonightIt does not call upon my door this nightNot a single knock or turn of the knobOf this sleep, I was surely robbed.Begainst the malice of this deedJust a single night's sleep is what I needYet mocked I am again this nightTo forfeit my sleep untingled without fright.My eyelids unweighed, too shallow to sinkFor they continue to gaze unable to blinkForever in my slumber shall be forgottenAs I lay in my bed unsettled & darkenedListening to the whispers that call in my wakeI settle in this darkness of which I forsakeMy lust for this dream of which cannot beThe day that the door comes knocking for me.
AnswersI don't write poetry.I just let the pen DanceAcross crumbled pages.I let my soulBleed into ink.As my way of askingStatues and glowingScreensFor answersBut They never answer.
we used to fly togetheri've got a good memory,but i was surprised to find the box;full of our scribbled conversationsand protestations (no, that's not right)declarations, no, dreamsof what the future might look like.we were young, vibrant, andbeautiful (and inseparable, once)and we thought we knew how totake hold of the future.for my part, i struggled withage as if i had a chance of winning;our battles were the talk of the town.you, you took to the passing of time with an eagerness that showedjust how ready you were to put away the notions of childhood.i've got a good memory,but it's easy to be selective,pick and choose the momentsthat i want to relive.we were foolish, confident(and oh, so alive)and we fell into our roleswith a predictability that is near miraculousto behold.i doomed myself to the role ofthe forever-child, always looking back,always dreaming of the carefree days.you quickly ran out of adventures,and set about finding new myst
Call it Fallthere's a soft kiss ofmedium-rare sunlightin the barelybroken bonesof this October dayjust warm enoughto think that summermay have stasheda day or twoin our pocketsbut each tomorrowreminds us morethat it didn'tthat this autumnknows little lifeoutside its barrelof choking appleswhere yellowjacketsbore, conquer and,still sweet,curl into a coolslow sleepof frozen dreamspaused in dawn'sblanket of frostthese short daysunder long nightscount down toa new beginningof the enda dark springof bright blushand angerthat will burn this forestnot down, but nakedand we call it Fallas if there's a misstepor slip involvedas if we make a choiceor skip the chanceto not veerfrom daylight's trailonto these our printsso well worn and re-worninto timetwo human sets enterand where it goesfrom theregets lost in thecrunch of leavesbeneath usour moon stays lowgiving trees new lifeand wind carries crieslike song, for miles
Empty But Alivebreathing you in, octoberi taste the numbing agentseven on the very surfaceof your conspiracy, thisprepping of the patientthis unworking of the earthsealing it as-ishardening the sitesof future graves, forced shallownot harvesting, just weakeningarranging late-year stacksof blurry panic, while disablingthe defensive responseso much decline to wagebefore the winter killsoctober knows i'm a foolfor the dark underbreathof its dead open airthe howl of the breezethrough its night fields, emptybut alive, and so very not emptyits rhythm of silencebetween barks and callsstalls my heart mid-beati used to pray for its enginesto restart, before it hit groundbut now i realizethat there is no floorto this dreamand no bottom to this fall
decodei pinedunequivocallyfor the quillin soft shadows:the swallow's smileand toothyflightthe curveof treebowsrotting-freshto planta buduphigh andhemlocking-mebetween a dreamand sleepand sleepand sleepyou musn't worryI have foundan ink-sourcethus:a quibblingcreek -my soul!It willblossomlike poppieson the pagebefore me,myfingertipthe pen
hummingbirds only fly in the sun hummingbird girl,you are the sunlight twinklingin my eyes. a letter addressedto no one ended up on nobody'sdoorstep, dancing around odysseusand his iliad. the gods whisperin your ears at night, lending youtheir words to paint onto brittleparchment. you are a mysterycloaked in fragments and fabricatedwings, the taste of the universeon my tongue. if i could unlockthe cage i would set you free,but my nimble fingers aren't goodfor anything except tying knotsin heartstrings that aren't my own.
InsideI'm living in a coward's worldDying from a dream I cannot reach.Too weak to strive to beI slowly fall into the webOf tangled truths and usurped eyesTrying to break the wallThat I built too youngUnable to find my will.