Dark is the night, by the light of day

Harsh are the words, which some people say

Grievous the malaise, which we often feel

Deep are the wounds, of a hurt that won’t heal

Lasting the wrong, to whom it is done

Fleeting the moment, when praises are won

Tragic the loss, of someone we love

Empty the feeling, when they are thought of
WIZDUMBs BY JA 619

i feel like the walking dead
rotten thoughts calling often
no stopping the stalking dread
crossing over from my coffin

bury me deeper

just a corpse, looking back
maggots feasting on the placid
no stopping the pulling black
passing over from my casket

listen to the sound of my voice
the lilt and the odd mix of Filipino and American
(i blame my parents and all the Winnie the Pooh
they forced on me)
listen to the softness
to the uncertainty
listen to my voice
hear the o's and the a's and the odd way i say
my e's
listen to the sound of my voice
while it still sounds like
dripping honey and daisies in the wind
listen to my voice as i speak about rocket ships
and the moon

the artist renders itself to sleep.
its ghost sleeps in its skin.
it dreams in madness.

  colors cover the blanket covers you.