I sit on the bench in the boulevard,
reminiscing the time gone and past;
happy that it will never last,
as the evil never becomes Heaven's guard.

Maybe there's actually hell on Earth,
being pollution and blood shed
because,people like that ***** blood.
Where humanity faces humility's death.

Machines rule the dying race;
stop for a second and think about the cost,
we'll never be a tough post
for the coming  posterity,and they won't be at bay.

The birds fly with horrid power
fearful to land on the mother Earth.
Since,it has transformed into a fiery hearth
and destruction's berth.

I think too much,
talk too much,
dream too much,
and write too much
in a desire to
illicit implicit
emotional responses
engineered in
the pursuit of
defining and expanding
the influence of
love.

Some days there is an ache
That ripples through my soul like an echo in an empty cave.
Where it started, I'll never know
But it seems endless on my empty days.

Silently, "I need to tell you something."
I approach. Falter, walk away.

I need to break this bond I have with silence,
This unhealthy affair I have with solitude.

I haven't even the energy to pull the words up from my stomach.
I heave,
Retching out nothing but bile and air.

I have so many things to say,
Passing fruitlessly through the space between my ears.

Speaking of space, that seams to be where I exist.
It's either that, or this is Purgatory.

Hell.
Too much conscience to be clinically depressed,
Too far gone to be "normal",
Nothingness.

"This is what it feels like to be a ghost."
To no one, again.

Lest you find yourself amongst the bones,
Mask your face and quiet your soul.

Flock in lines of the mundane and meek,
Zip your lips, peacful keep.

This genocide of individuality is perverting our kind, incestually.
Perfect patterns, mechanically, processed, soundly.

The flawed are pushed aside,
The individuals are boxed up, shipped out, Pariahs.

So, don your masks, one and all!
Suit up, and watch your sheeple fall.

Curse the stars!
For ours were not aligned.

Hope is the truest feeling
Borne aloft on fragile wings
She flirts and frolics in the atmosphere
Where all joy and all love sings

When I loved, dear, when I loved
Hope was a medicine to me
Neutralising the source of pain
And nursing tenderly