Time is a dictator
It takes the form of all the elements:
liquid- slipping out of your hands endlessly.
Each wrinkle is two years multiplied by five,
impossible to keep track of.
Havoc is all it causes,
hand in hand with subjugation,
As the pair of crystalline eyes
dart ruthlessly
in a futile attempt to tally the seconds.
One wish?
I wish for 365 wishes.
By wish number 4, I will wish for 96
and by the 3rd it will happen.
_________
I have a feeling
I'm squeezing my brain
draining my capacities
with each poem I write
Mention this word
and a picture of white skin
and glowing red eyes
will be the first thing
that my mind creates.
My brain,
a cheap conjurer of tricks,
is closely affiliated with that adjective
maniac, madman, mayhem
insane
What's in a name
as
p
s
y
c
h
o
is whispered in the chilly November wind?
I find myself lost at times.
However, not lost enough to say that I cannot be saved.
Some say that there is no hope for me
and I believe so myself
But sometimes I think I am just RANTING
Oh, yes, I am so angry
but not angry enough.
My heart longs for pure liquid love.
Jesus, if I could only take a dose
and rip off the red strands of hair
because they symbolize the devil and nothing else.
Aloha!
Buongiorno, uomo
Hola
Hi Hey
Hello
How does the devil say hello?
Goodbye!
With death.
Breathing is a disease
a technique used by the first human to survive.
But, alas, without this malady
there would be no life.
The lungs
an apparatus
to avoid unhonorable death
However, the human before humans
could not even survive on this...
piece of barren landscape.
Waste!
"You cannot just push me into oblivion.
My soul is not another cavity to throw
deteriorating sugar in.
I am a sailor
who pleasures in pleasures,
but what I do
is a gift for you all.
I tame the ocean,
domesticate the waves.
Thank me for that
and do not judge me for my wary appearance."
A monotone voice
and a downtrodden persona
a cup of tears
a tablespoon of PTSD
a teaspoon of bullets
a bucket of camouflage
a sprinkle of hope
a mile of death
