Elusive eyes embrace thousands of faces which hold horrors that take root in one's subconscious.Like the stories stored deep within her scars. Or his longevity leaving through the slits on his wrists.Hoping things are different...Your story may have a happy ending but they just reached their ******.  

     Living beneath a flag symbolizing solidarity. Yet separation remains within each region, state, and city! Freedom is just another figment of one's mind! It's odd how God's perfect possessions are possessed with vicious vitality...Someone is speaking but the other's aren't listening. In strife with our speculations during the night when our sincerity strangles us!

     Weeping in our sleep wishing to wake to mama's pancakes, while politicians pollute our lives with handshakes.Minds racing while one's body is still! Inhumane humans and an unbalance between the rich and poor. Speaking truth on the unjust, yet they close their doors... Buried beneath four walls! Oblivious of one's inner demons dancing on their graves, listen to our creator as he speaks.

     He exclaims that we skip serenity and our minds fixate on the wealth we don't obtain! As another man yearns to earn as much as you...How could you sleep? When the other man doesn't have enough to eat! Focused on trivial tribulations... While she's praying she'll live to meet tomorrow. Enslaved by our own mental decree!

     Remember no matter your status we're not all gonna live to see tomorrow... so break free of your mental chains and ask yourself if your faith lies in the hands of the created or the creator?

I cry sometimes. Enhancing this deluge of delirium. With a drop which flows from my face to the flood of Earth’s clay as I inhale this bitter breeze of our garden’s grief! Seeing your withered wood… I breathe deep… Inhale… Exhale…

   And hope that these frivolous feelings will bottle up after this bottle is downed! Words now trapped…it’s a joke…but this is no banter of your basil  bush! This is a garden now growing with grief, which subdues layers of our sacred memories, suppressing sadness and carries on until my rancid lungs collapse…

   But… I don’t die. I just-carry on. Watching your roots rot… As this decomposing disease devours your soul!  My soul slowly sinks into the mud. Yearning to find you six-feet-under. Beneath the sublime beauty of our orchids. To the place where Hades resides...      

   I miss the touch of your hands. The lingering sensation of your waning wood intertwined with my vines.  My fingertips now feel the burn of Hell! I learnt that this burn won’t melt, it just burns, until your whole bodies submerges and turns what they’ll learn and all their concerns into nothing! Because I guess everyone dies…

   Even if they don't deserve it...well I may have deserved it because I'm depicted as the ideal image of man yet they watch as my green leaves burn brown and… and this ivy poisons my rich roots. But this isn't a cry for help, it’s a letter, poem, or whatever you want to call this… This is my message to you!
                                                           ­                                                                 ­                
   Yes, angels are heavenly but even if they’re with me…they can't get inside my mind and help me flourish in this Hell on Earth. The one you left me in! So I thank them…but I’ve handled enough forced sympathy. I'd rather be with some boys and ***** and listen to a simple symphony. There I can cry... myself …and become one with the flood                    
from this deluge of delirium!

Leave me visible like a vagrant dog in a deluge...
I'll hear your whisper in the wind, embrace your essence
in the rain, and see the secluded skies..

     When the rain is subtle I will know that something
has tempered you... But when the rain rages I'll know that
something has imparted panic upon you!

     And in this inherited intellect lacking eyes, ears, hands, or lips...
Our limp lumber would eternally rest in Earth's clay.Envision, the squall streaming through a patch of wildflowers...

    In my disorder gardens of myself flourished. Buds of curiosity burgeoning from my eyes! It would be our knuckles, rigid, prancing pebbles meant for progenies' play, and the sinful sun weaving it's way through your missing molars!

   Countless days go unnoticed and nights unslept... We'll speak with our soul through breached bones, where our tendons once thrived!  Imagine, your cranium and mine both mitigated to  matter.

   Both refined from our faults, and our skins going young again, disregarding the reason we ever wrinkled! A chance to cleanse our aura once more... May I become dust with you?
My trembling tree...

Momma always compares me to the trees
She says... I'm tall, thin, and free spirited in the wind
But now I lay before you as a trembling tree!

    Attacked by the axe of ambulance, due to my
decomposing disease. Ligaments languish as fragmented
foliage and organs become tainted tangerines!

    As my conscious collides with the wind... Ivy of my illness
binds my tethered trunk, spiders of suicide descend down branches!
Crawling beyond broken bark... cracking my vitiated vision!

    As the sun sank into our garden of healthy hilarity.
My withered wood fades into a cloud come with  no stellar stars or stealthy skies.

    After all these years... where are my pastures of prayer?
Where is my happy ending?!?
I await for the decorum... as this deathly deluge devours me!

Dear mom
I am not yet born hear me
please dont let the scrounging snakes
or scoundrels near me.

I am not yet born but provide me
with growing grass, talking trees, a blue
bird to sing and the North Star to guide me.

I am not yet born but forgive me
for my thoughts when they write
the words I speak. For my life I have life
yet Im not living. For my death... On that
day it shall be our last shared breathe.

Momma just know Im sorry!

Dear mom
I am not yet born please provide me
with power against those who halt my
humanity, make me a machine's mechanism,
and suffocate my soul. For I am the lively
liquid held in hands... so please let them not
spill me otherwise just... **** me.

My truth is I'm drowning in seas of mistakes
as the waves of pressure crash over me.

The truth is I've allowed fear to enter the dark
corners of my mind. I told him he may only stay
for a little while... I promise!

But now I'm to afraid to let this fear escape.

The truth is I'm scared... terrified to let you in
because my tainted thoughts poison pure minds.

My truth is anxiety and depression devour my soul
as darkness moves from one corner to the other...
leaving trails of suicidal sticky notes.

Some say: Remember when she said,
"You're just another fat helpless victim of society."
Or when he said,
"You're worthless we rather you dead!"

The truth is the world sees me as the frail twig.
Not the sturdy tree!

As the moon sank
I heard a faint flow
Of an inky darkness
In a cry of a gifted owl
I should think it's nothing
But the cricket in a crook
Is humming hymns
Of surplus stillness
That has yet to come