Cursed for tearing apart the last pages
before the tolling of the bell

Another poet's raven has made a nest
deep inside the woods of the dead

Why are you afraid of dying
when you do not live either?

I have hidden my soul's sparkle
inside a statue's neckless in the Necropolis

I'm crossing the borders of your mind
wearing a coat made of storm-clouds

Lord of darkness
please be my guide

Sometimes we aren’t meant
To be more than what we see
Make believe past reality
Not meant to be more than
What we are meant to be
What we are
Is intrinsic to us
What we sometimes
See and think we will be
We already are

There is always sun
In the sadness
Splash in the madness
Jump jump jump stomp!
It poured down
Looked up soaked
Saturated with love
Skies absorbed
Oceans like sponges
Floods flowed
They sang
A sad song
That’s when
It’s time to
Let it rain
Pick up
Move on
Sing your own
Verse
Let the sun shine
In the sadness

we are clumps of chaos
born to waste away
back into what made us
at the end of our stay
our brief coalescence
sentience we say
would be no less meaningless
without the words to describe it that way