I just want to wander around
Beneath the sunshine,
Writing poetry in my mind
About people I see
That will forever be strangers to me
And the companionship
I will never find.

Have you ever seen a moth die,
Mid-flight?
Neither have I.
But imagine how it would drift
From the immaterial sky,
Upon the slightest currents of air,
Without even a whisper
That you or I
Would be able to hear..
What a sight.
With love
From above
As a guide,
Seemingly glowing
With mother moon’s light.

I am a writer in a generation where words are a dime a dozen…
Chicken feed
Technology is all anybody ever needs.
The only thing worth attention is video streams,
Nobody reads…

I would much rather lurk in the shadows than dance in the light. You are cheapened with each set of eyes that judge, envy, admire. Enough light will merely turn you into a pyre of broken dreams and desperate wishes. No. This is not for me.
I will be cultivated by the cold dark upon my skin, sustained by that which shrouds me all the more. And when I go into the light… there will be none left. You won’t see me, but you will feel when I close in around you. Just too mesmerized by the dancer in the light to save your soul.

You know what bothers me a bit?
Everytime I recall a memory,
Casually, in my train of thought,
It almost always ends with-
“That was a hard time in my life.”
Even in recollections full of kind
That’s almost always
The following thought in my mind.
And ****** if I can find a period of time
That hasn’t been, that wasn’t.
But it doesn’t matter what was…
Or does it?
Yes… yes, it does.

Moving at such a momentum that is necessary for the mere realization makes any attempt of catching yourself futile. You’re moving too fast with entirely too much force. Your fingers scrape at hard dirt sides, the glass that sand once was cuts once again. Branches turn into hot, fiery rope in the palms of your hands.
Just fall.
Land well.
And begin to ascend….
Yet again.