Has my soul woundered around in many different time lines
Trying to escape a reality that I have never wanted to see.
Trying to predict a future with out you.
The bad descions have been coming back to bite me again.
Karma has finally made it's descion to hit me.
Asking my self the same questions over an over again,
Drowning my self in a bottle of Scotch.
Asking my self on replay
Would I jump to the past to change things?
Or should I stay an have another dance with the devil?
There are times when I look up in the sky
Asking my self if I'm the only one
Crazy enough to look for this
Poisonist Sensation that it's called
Countless incourters I have with the moon
Communicating with her
As I sit out in front of my porch admiring it's endless beauty.
Like a diamond in the sky
that no light an dark can stop it's shine.
My nights have made the tides higher
As if the moon heard my words.
I say to her drift my lover to shore.
An make my lover see u as well
She replayed with a sweet whisper
Is looking at me as well"
Has the bitterness of my lips reached
The aromas of spring.
My Dear -
I open backdoors where doors were never ment to be.
I unfold the moon as if I drew it out of thin air.
I dissolve worlds an make new ones,
as if I was the true created.
I whisper in a soft voice an say
"I now live in pages written with my own blood".
P.S It's not how much you write,
It's how you begin to grow roots and gloom in darkest hours.
Many have said why do I write so much.
"I been listening to the flow of art of my pen".
The beautiful voices that have said to me to CONTINUE.
You can listen to my pen and
what it has said
to this piece of paper.
There are times where I can no longer see myself as a person.
Only what's coming out of my pen,
The ink I compare my self to.
But where has the emotions gone to?
If I'm only ink?
Emotions that I can never discribe.
Ink that crys on it own
For every movement my hand makes,
A different form of pain comes out.
Emotions that can only be described through this pen.
Excietment, happiness, pain and sarrow,
all coming out at once.
There are nights where I close my self to the world, while under the night light preferring to open up with my Pen.
The last drops of ink has spilled
An said out loud
A Pen without ink is a Pen without it's owners soul.
I have reached a breaking point
that has slowly led every thought of you on to the ground.
My tears have reached onto this paper,
Before this letter surfaced up to the light.
Day by day
This message has become a nightmare
And maybe this will fall onto Depth Ears.
Maybe you'll never read this,
Perhaps you'll never find it.
Maybe one day, you will see
I was sincere with my words,
spilling them out like a waterfall.
It's a unwanted power
As if a Queen left golden strands of hair behind.
All these years of assumptions
have become worse
A Gore to bare with.
A Lost color for my soul
I write to u in metaphors
As if they were hieroglyphics.
A different langue that I do not speak,
But I write frequently In disguise-
Away from the moon
Where the sun doesn't want to hug the earth.
That's how I begin every day without the light.
Just a blissful word that speaks to my ears to get up.
I have wounder around in my own writings
speaking to people that I dont know.
As for the both of you
I have become more than a stranger
A distant son.
Like a needle in a hay stack.
Wondering if my lips will ever speak out my true feelings.
Figuring out rhymes without a sense of tone,
Because I have surrendered to silence.
An became death to nature.
Have I lost my heart?
Have I been blind to never open up?
I have called my feelings Hiding beneath every word.
As tears shower this paper because I have extended my vocabulary to spell out love.
An I write what my voice negates to say
"I Love both of you,
An I shall Stay
until my last living breath".
After all this time I can now sit an write
Forgetting my pass years of endless flights.
Desintations among the shadows,
Where images cannot Appear.
For some reason
I closed my self to this lonesome fog.
Making my ink
My Agony becomes extensions of deadly Airs,
For dying leaves to settle in my grave.
My lonely nights
Are poems in a difficult times
Turning beautiful flowers to gloom
It appears me that I have open my self to a word of emptiness,
An rumours to me became a curtain for eyes to never see happiness.
As I say in between my words
An call out
"I feel Alone among millions"…..