The only time you can feel your heart are the times where something amazing is born and when something amazing dies.

i lost the lines that bound me
the ones that were born with my sight
growing with the words
sprung from my lucid movements
i lost the lines of a poet

writing

he tried and tried again. there was truth within his lies and lies within his truth. she called to him, through the storm of the night. only to hear nothing in return. he could not hide from his demons. the monsters of which pieced him together like a fire raging amoungst the shallow of the trees. the storm carried her away, further away from her search of home. there in the night she sunk. her eyes open, as he heard and ignored her cries. the storm of the night will fade and the sun will capture her face and all will become frozen in time.

poem

there is a reflection
face's blurry, undefined.
right side up i can not see,
a bat i have come to be.
alone i once walked,
this i knew well.

the dark.
strength,
it does know.
words whispered,
etched in mind
apparent
and blind.

poem

caged beauty
along the crippled night.
who stole your smiles?
sad and pale you lay.
poisioned soul,
awaken from the cold!

writing

Its late summer and the winds are fairly stronger. I lay in bed and watch the curtains swaying, fierce like a battle. the white drapes against the darkness of the night seem like white angles or ghosts taunting me again and again. sounds of leaves, fool my ears, too early for this time of year. it is cold and i shiver. my eyes grow weak as my bones grow heavy. i sleep.

poem.

yellow and black
foiled,
united.
stinging lips
pressed in gold.
a thorn wrapped,
knighted
sewn in color.

the color of rage,
blood and fire.
born with a name like beauty?

here lies a dream.
in a fear.
waiting,
for a wind,
its temperament
of a truth or a lie.

a demand a mere night can hold.

a hostage,
I.
broken sky,
rained of cautioned time.

and its fate....

just another broken poem
and line.








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