Once Tonight.

Tender kisses did leave me in the afterlife of a night with you. You’ve greeted me with warm delights; chocolate and gold, incense and such. The idea appealed to me thoughtfully, noting every single touch by you. Your caramel smile and sandalwood cologne brought me up the stairs, where we passed a chandelier held by a crystal rope that hung up all the way to the fifth floor. Gliding up the stairs, we passed an elevator that we ignored, enjoying our ascent in the steps. Forward the story continues…



Write the lines and you will escape
Into another world of all there is.

Second Chases

My lips caress your absence ones, your music has encased my heart,

Will you write for me?

I can’t just run away from all my fears, fearing I’ll loose you. And I did, by my own doings.

Your music encased me, who am I? Who am I I think. No one it seems without you.

Old Love New Love

Can’t you see I’m running from

The biggest baddest wolf -all my life-

And I try to breathe

And I try to breathe…

Can’t you see how madly I cried out?!

In hopes of you saving me…

Won’t you save me?

Through the eyes of tiny little fireflies did the Illuminati

Sought in me: A cure of all the cancer and now I try to lean in and out of this

Picture frame.

Along a lonely road I walk and see something across the road staring at me,

It terrifies me.

A young boy of four, black raven hair I saw him lead a life on the path, of my road. Little boy mind you speak of a wolf, a hungry one indeed.

Escape with me and through the sea will find a home again.

Fellow Fighters

Sun had bellied the cold wars

Let it commence again

Moon had taken over-

Rise all catapults!

Allies in the legion-

The tribes all lost ago-

Belly the enemies…

For they are our closest friend.

Hear my letter, Dear Soldier,

Come home and fight the bigger fight,

Our society has lost its whole.


I sit watching hesitantly, a room with an audience, rooms that hear voices- colors of the many; humans/people.

I urge to take the stand, but a hand holds my troubled heart back- a substitute narrator/ or/ the Pen Holder.

Who are they

Who are they to say I have no sword?!

My sword is my voice, air thought caught in a cyclone

I breathe

I think

Somewhere out there lies my truth-

Somewhere here lies the answer