In a car ride to nowhere,
Because why not.
Nothing much left for me here, page is full
The feather has drivelled its last blot.
In a starry night above somewhere,
The darkness is painted white.
The wind blows cold but the sun
will meet it with light.
For all life’s problems will drift away,
Whatever it is, it’s going to be alright.

Over coming my short comings.
Initially so plentiful, now nothing.
Your naked body clothing my thoughts.
Like leaves to trees.
Like pouring vinegar in the wounds I once bled, I continue to ponder you,
they continue to bleed.
Alone I walk in paradise, the shrivelled memories faulting to mere dust.
The air in Eden, a little colder, the water stained bitter, turning hardened steel into rust.
Spiralling up in a whirlwind of desire of what once was, consuming me whole, and ridding me of trust.
My inevitable demise,
I knew what you were, I chose to bite the apple , why am I surprised.

D’evils
Devils amongst us, painted in a glisten, dipped in gold. And thus, if to them, you truly listen, thou shan’t make it to old.
A patter of steps, trailing, lurking, never rest. For if guard is lost, with her eyes, you will get undressed.
A slither of a tongue, a caress or two, scrounging around for what it is, that weakens you. May it be ambition, may it be vanity.
The appearance of it, a delusion, for something so innocent, could wield your sanity.
Like a fisherman in calm waters, peering about into the blue sea, an encounter, lies a test for thee, beautiful it is, promises empty as hollow.
Peer closer he does, a goner he may, in the waters he is swallowed.
For she lured and prevailed it be, beauty is no longer hailed, as to him, it and the devil, are now a simile.
D’evils.

Never has anyone had the power to make me feel so strong, yet so weak, so alive yet so bleak, so amused at what I’m so confused, calling victory to what I should have called truce, until you. I’m a walking contradiction, a Yin and a Yang, with no balance, an order and a chaos, with a hint of madness. For you, I would take the happiness with the sadness.

It was a particularly melancholic morning appearing like a blemish to my week,
a dark spot surrounded by the light,
much like a melanoma.

Hair, looping about, intersecting through one another, locks, like a sea of being.
Smell, scent from an unseen utopia, lingering, waiting to be consumed by my gasping lungs.
In and out, it controls, to the point of complete isolation, eyes become obsolete, lids contract, breathing in slowly the calming breeze.
Like a sea shell, the ear witnesses the origins, beat after beat, separated by intermissions of quiet, her inner mechanisms at work. I feel her soul coming alive.