we all have our dark sides
sometimes, it turns us
black, cold
complete shallow
and hollow
sometimes, it drown us
and i wonder about my values,
my morals, my beliefs
where did they all go?
Is it a curse
or might it just be my own escape?
this darkness, that i feel
it made me loose myself
and i let it go
of my past, of my bitter realities
as i give myself
to people,
and to all people, of all kind, and race
its not even me
i do realize
yet i can't think more
as i dont know who am i
my heart sinks
and sometimes a lot
just in this moment
when i feel at loss
not feel like moving anymore
and i wonder
why i had to let go?
is it better than before?
this loneliness
that i wont tell
is something more of a soul
and heart
I guess, i just don't enjoy much
this world
or people
and maybe
o my darling, this just my too many thoughts
this darkness, that i feel
and it has no restrictions
as it drown me
completely.

To all the Christmases behind me
I remember how you used to be
Sitting around the Christmas tree
Listening to stories of wise men three

Of all the Christmases gone by
I remember crystal skys
And sparkling grape juice in the ice
The pungent smells of Christmas wine

For all the Christmases I've seen
I recall the Christmas dream
Of gifts and sweets beneath the tree
And stuffed stockings waiting for me

And all the Christmases I've reached
I feel the sand beneath my feet
All those games down at the beach
And tossing bread out to the sheep

And all the Christmases end
By decorating ginger bread
And laying down our heavy heads
On feather pillows on our beds

Princess Leia, we bid thee bye
May the Force be with you as you fly
Through unforgetting hearts and minds
As Empires fall & the Rebells rise
Your story unfolding before our eyes

We look at your legacy of New Hope
How you melted the heart of Han Solo
Risked your life to save the galaxy far
Did your part destroying the Death Star
And in your heart forgave that vile Darth Vader

Such a person we shall remember
Rest in peace Carrie Fisher.

I was asked
"Is the glass half empty, or half full?"
I answered, "the glass is refillable"
But they do not understand
How long it has taken to get to that
The medicines I take
The mantras I repeat
Every minute, hour, day
The fact I submerse myself in life
Trying to find that "normalacy"
The medicines help
They keep my monster locked away
At least, I like to think they do
It is still there
Taunting me behind bars
Attempting to break free
Devour me with its darkness
I may seem normal
Happy-go-lucky
But they don't see
How much I fight
To keep the monster from me

The cloth I gave it as cover for chill
is lying still.

Christmas eve was its last night.

Not that I knew
when picked it up
and gave it back
to the cold night.

I'm still holding it
heavy and invisible
on my heart
as my eyes repeat the scene
of crows pecking out its eyes
the head rolling on the earth
eyes closed.

I close my eyes
scared life could be so thin a thread
barely holding
and incredibly uncertain.

She's a beautiful woman.

When age left her side
she grew a bed of marigold
blooming yellow and red
catching sunshine in winter
and as the years tiptoed to her
a fresh bed of love she made
and lay thereupon newly wed.

Candle lit room
Illuminated by moon light
A faint smile from the unknown lady of the night

I found her wandering in the boulevard
She's smiling for a person with unsatisfied carnal desires

She undresses and starts spreading sheets above us
Faint scent of her hair
A beauty, no doubt

I listened to her stories with a lit cigarette
How she used to be an honor student

She undresses me and kisses me
She knows where to lead her mouth and hands
She moves- making me quiver with her damp thighs

I will never know your name.
Only the shared cigarette and your story

She slides it in- Moaning, scraping, pulling, tugging.
I lost myself in ecstasy falling in my vivid dreams in the hedonist dimension of the universe.

*She grabbed my wallet and ran.
She opened it; and saw a picture of herself in my arms as a toddler.

Giving joy, getting joy, never coy,
Often pretty, always called a toy,
She sells all that there is to deploy.

And there is she who is demure;
A teacher whose job is secure.
Some say that all teachers are pure.

And there is he who is a professor;
He is his father’s successor;
Just like his father’s predecessor.

The first one we call a *****;
She prostitutes her body more and more;
But the other ones we adore.

The professor prostitutes his knowledge.
He also sells his precious time.
And the teacher too makes the same pledge;
Especially while she is in her prime.

We all ******* something every day;
Yet only the first one’s a *******; yay!

They come,
They touch.
They walk away.
Money stacked
into my bra strap,
They touch.
They walk away.
Another night,
Another show.
Same fright,
Another pillow.
They come,
They pay.
And they walk away.