I am pre olympique when I breath, a son from the 12 if you please

I hold up the skies on the cloudy nights
or when there is nothing but coloured lights

The grandfather, Uranus, he is who I hold
up as he is heaven for his story to be told

My shoulders weigh down as the bearer of bad news
Bad days and bad storms too

And when the clouds cry, I chuckle a ‘tee-hee’
For as when the new race of humans believe
And they get a sense of that cold breeze

They don’t realize the rain that falls
isn’t even rain, not really a little bit
not really even at all

For when I hide away
And get betrayed

But not by Herakles, no by the world
By the one whom I hold

I let them fall
The tears of a titan
The tears of a little girl

Human and all

Why wait? For the beating drum, like a beating heart, a little faster now, my solidarity

and when the moon rises it’s time to think, it’s time to breathe, why wait? Like the drowning, a bleeding tree, find me.

Lost in a dark forest, hidden from the world, each root is a story, constantly be retold. Why wait?

The library distracts like art on the wall, please leave, why wait, lightning looks like veins.

Show me your heart, does it look like mine? Why wait? It’s finally your time.

Too many days are in a year

when the wind finally stops we wait, here.



On a cold hill with no air

I fall, my time is growing near.



The sun moves again, as it meets the night.

As I lay back falling, I no longer fright.



The stars are beautiful, but they run from height

My head reaches the ground at last, I take flight.

I will retire to be grass on the lawn.
Wishing I could lay dead like the flower, all day long.

How free it would be,
to live like the leaves in the breeze
Dangling, helplessly, up on the trees
With all the fallen branches under me.

Could I become salt on skin?
For the dogs to lick off with their lips.

And my body may lay motionless on the ground,
With all the hungry vegetation growing around.

A wilted plant thirsting for the sun
And I am the one who lay their growth undone.

Like a bee, I’ll **** honey through the dandelions in life

the ones that blossom and bloom after April’s rain

and there, I will repopulate the richness of our world

spread colourful kisses and give our eyes gifts, worth more than money

these are my dreams, hopes, desires, and like all other flowers I hope to reach for the stars

I wish to feel comfort in the sun, as it dries the rain, bringing sweet treats to our tea when the lions mane may grow again

The words don’t rhyme
I’ve wasted my time

There is no meaning
No melancholy feeling

I watched a YouTube video to write this

There is no point in any of it.

You’re sickeningly intoxicated
With your orange blossom smoke

that rises from the tip of your shrivelled down kif

It’s makes me gag, it makes me choke

the scent of calabrian bergamot,
it sits in the back of my throat

and yet the blanc musk that you leave behind

leaves me wanting more,
I chase wildly as I climb up the grape vine

I cringe at the despise, at the hypocrisy, that fills my mind with those blessed be

scents, and notes
of fruity floral dope

I wish to be able to breath all the scents of an Autumn day
With the leaves with the wind, I will take up all my space
As the sounds whistle in
I can fill my grave
And in my heart, and in my head
I know my fate.
I've met my face.
It's not my mistake.

I have met the morningstar
Of whom falls below the fallen leaves
She sings a song of adversary
Aphrodite, you cannot reach me.

For I have learnt to breathe.
For I have learnt to breathe.
For I have,

I breathe.

Sigh, what if I die?
Before morning
And no one remembers the note
I wrote

So you will be left with thoughts of nothing
And it’ll all be just a cruel, cruel, joke

Are my tears making you choke?

Or is it the laughter, I used to bring
to your beating heart
That now doesn’t sound a thing

Like the stringless harp

That I broke
And now just sits alone
Near your window

So I’d be glad I was dead
Cause then
I won’t remember all the **** I did

To you

Or to anyone
Affected by my choice

I woke before the day, when the moon still meant night

Where a cold shiver had met my back, why did I fright?

Was it that, there was something, I couldn't seem, to see, that left my guardian in still?

There was a sour flavour in the air, so stale, and yet so colourful

A drowning sense may devour, my nose wrenched of pure sulphur

Or was it my comatic imagination, my brain still so tired.

Then all of a sudden I heard a gasp, could it belong to a vengeful soul?

"Who have I wronged enough to hurt me this much, to leave my will an empty hole."

The trees had then rustled a mocking screech

I'd soon fall to the floor, begging I could scream, except my throat remained dry

I'd sit there tortured by the silence and lack thereof by what I beg to simply be an invading dream

But know instead that "No, this must just be my torment."

Why should I have to feel my heart? So loud, my beating guilt

Could it be because of the girl locked in my previously
built, chest

Under my bed

Where I wish I could still lay

Except however, despite my want, I must wait for my soon to come, internal dismay

For this night and therefore myself, are but a hurricane

This eerie vision of what is to be both the eye and the storm

Is leaving me externally worn.