Cut short at the seams 

Thought I could mend broken strings- dangling in front of me, my voice drifting it away so it seems…

Bond I must with Bose and a pack, music flushing out the chaotic screams ringing in my ears- a shattered fact- I must’ve thought I’d avoid, only slithering back to bed. 

I know that

It won’t matter much longer, so I know the end

The wind taking me closer to a destination anywhere but broken strings-

“Broken bonds” a blue bird sings “away the cloudy, thee holds a lighten torch in a soulful misunderstood body”

Old Days

I picked up a shard of glass and couldn’t help running my fingertips over it’s sharp edges 

Sometimes wanting to carve my skin underneath it’s rigid flaws, take bliss in the crimson pain that excites my dying wishes… Sometimes wanting to cut my own lifeline of the powerful urging sensations my darkness brings me.

 I fear not of the day I die- but the moment where I’ll have no reason to keep breathing, a truth that’ll cease my living thoughts and plunge me in a dead darkness with translucent arms beckoning me in. 

Realization Beckons

As more and more time passes- the less I seem to dream. Reality sinks in deeper within my head, making everything that seemed once possible,


Maybe it’s just me- falling weaker, my days shortening the belief that once held me steady- or maybe it’s my new beliefs that make me question why everything is. I want to break barriers, break the air and climb into another dimension. If I breathed in the Dark Matter that surrounds the Unknown, would I be able to see with new eyes? These eyes that hold vast memories are yearning for something more. God, let me see.

Let me see the Pools of Time behind Alanda’s Saturn rings, let me see the Draki hiding within a Milky Galaxy, let me see the vines that holds all fruits,

Let me see the souls, the truth, the light.

Be it 

Are the mother polar bears howling for their young? Oh, where have thou young’eth fled? Their Cubs, just wee little fella’s, escaped the frozen tundra, under their wandrous little paws they had fled. 

Are the mother polar bears crying for their young? Oh, they’ve been lost many moons, and still with every last breath they howl to the moon, their breaking voice praying to the clouds. 

“They are lost, they are lost,” she cried, “will they ever come back?”

There in a distance, huddled beneath broken ground, in sand, orphaned but now alone again. Her dirty white fur mangled, blood hid behind her ears, she bit away the grief of never finding her ma again.

A cry, a damn near cry shrieked from the heavens, was it her? She opened her eyes, a painful light leaked into her- shone from within out,

She opened her eyes, and her ma stood there, glistening eyes and that warm smile, “you are home again, my Dear.”

“Oh, Ma!” The young cub cried. 

I was home again. 

What I Am

I am not you, nor you. I hate this sponge-clothing, oil-soaked, what you say, “human skin”. I do not feast upon the desires of man, I do not feel greed nor anger. No turmoil, no anguish. No, what I am

Is the black sands, what I am is the space. Your mind, that, I am. You sense me, without knowing. I’m a theory, they’ve yet to have known. In the back of your books. The pages that these tiny morsels of life have yet to discover! Given to them, and still they cherish only the mounds of gold they pocket under their gluttonous beaks, guarding and killing off the weaken. 

No, what I am,

Is the second chance, the change of the wind, the hope, the life given to the ones who sat and listened. 

Yes, what I am, 

Is what wakes you up in the morning, what gives you life, I am your breath, let me breathe the cold air into your dying lungs! Sing and gather those amongst you who have always listened.

Sit now…on this stable, balanced rock; this Earth, in this time, and listen…

And that, my darling,

That is what I am. 

goodbye lullaby 

Sing me a song about it,

Sing me a song of your worries,

Sing me a song about it,

Sing me a song of your doubts, 

Sing me song about it,

Your every insecure thought,

Your last chance of life,

Your hatred for the world, your hatred for me,

Sing it to me. 

Another Word in Another World

He held me gently, almost as if his caresses were just wind touching my arms, the side of my face, my lips…

We laid down peacefully, a dark room inclosing us in our subtle bliss. We interlocked hands and bodies, morphing our souls into one, something only aligned hearts and minds can do, an intimate delicate feeling.

Too strong to call love,

But too fatal to call infinite.