There is something so heroic about wreckage. about this wreckage about our wreckage like the ocean shore after the storm as we watch all the ocean things scurry deep back into hiding and all it’s pretty things smashed as the water meets the land like a broken lover. all the colors scattered like bed sheets.… Continue reading Wreckage; a poem
I am terribly afraid. I am scared of becoming the piece of past you ran from. That I may become a living memory that is not my own. Same record; different break. You see, I have this tendency to lose myself in people. I won’t find my beginning and end; nor my middle. I only… Continue reading The Past Poem; a poem
Most people wear their love on their eyelids. It fits well on on our half moons and sometimes sun. Illuminates whom it inhabits as it forces their eyes to close until they start dreaming of things beyond rabbit holes. But you, you my darling, wear it on your shoulders like forgotten burdens. You’ve become condemned… Continue reading Condemned Love; a poem.
Who ever said that the pen was greater than a sword has never held a hand Or never dropped a hand Never wandered why it felt heavier without the hand. Without your hand. Running through these hills. These hills that demanded a sacrifice. You sacrificed me, left me in the valley. So I fell in… Continue reading These Hills; a poem
You didn’t falls for that man. You didn’t even gracefully descend upon him like you should have. No, my darling,you fell for love himself. He showed you the corners and colors of the potential universes and you wanted to stay there. But there is no home in him for you, and he will not make… Continue reading Fell For Love; a poem.
I learned from the jungle things and went on a Galactic goose chase in the universe looking for something that made me feel wild. But alas I only came to Milky Ways and mild mannered stars caught in the middle of havoc. But I still looked all over the Galaxy for wild things. Until I… Continue reading A Wild Thing; a poem
You broke my pieces and numbed the cracks hoping that I wouldn’t notice my causalities of your carnage only to find, that it wasn’t your war that I was fighting but some gross inheritance of mine and a revolting error of humanity’s sanity cause no poet nor warrior can save them, or me for that… Continue reading Some Carnage; a poem