Someday you’ll love you.
From the sparkle in your eye,
To the pitch of your laugh,
Even the color of your hair.

You will love every part,
From every wrinkle,
To every crinkle,
Every part of you.

But they will try to tear you down,
To make you frown,
To make you think you’re not worth it.

But darling you listen to me.

From the way you walk,
To the way you talk,
You will be mocked,
But don’t you listen.

From your weight,
To your height,
You are all wonderful to me.

Maybe one day you’ll see,
The beauty I see.
The way you were made,
So beautifully.

But until then,
Do not forget,
On how true beauty,
Comes from within.

how do you describe someone's smile
in poetic words?
how can i tell the person on the other side of the screen
that i crave to see his grin again
which i now only see in still moments in time

how selfless his smile is,
although he is no superman,
he rescues me from my darkness
and returns me to my safe place,
which resides in him.

do i have peace in mind
knowing that he may be seeing this
in someone else?

no, i do not have the right.
our time has come and gone,
like the shifting breeze
and the changing tide.

yes, i will still feel the caress from his hand
on my rosy cheek.
time brought his heart to me,
and i to it,
similar to how it guided me away.

this is part of the journey that i chose.
a thousand more years we may have to wait
for us to love again.
maybe then we will not hesitate,
but for now,
we wait.

Your flaws run deep,
Like the valleys through your face.
But do not look at that with your
Aging eyes
For all you will see is your
Slowly creeping demise.

Look with me,
At your wondrous face,
Can’t you see?
There’s not a thing out of place.


Your emerald green orbs light up with a spark
Your greying hair, is luxurious and still maintains the dark
That you wore as an oh so youthful teen
Before you married, when you were living the dream.

Though losing its marbles, your mind remains sharp,
You sit here with me, creating art
And everyone else, you seem to have lost,
Their cheerful interactions now met with frost.

You tell me you’re worried, that I’m to be next
That you won’t remember me after the fix
Your shaky hands move towards mine
In an attempt for comfort in desperate times

Because time is now slowly running out
And I believe in you, but I have my doubts
So we knit and we knit and then we crotchet
And when day time tv is on we pretend we’re okay

And then the one day I made plans to hang out with my friends instead of visiting you,
It was the very day I lost you.


September 18 2015 5:47 pm


The time I got the call.
I wasn’t there for you at all.
I knew you weren’t well that day.
And I still decided to stay away.

The last day of the school term, I thought you were fine
I truly believed we had more time.
Turns out even if I wished, I still was wrong.
I should’ve stuck with you all the way along.

I never got to tell you, that very day,
That despite the disease, you were beautiful in every way.
Though your flaws run deep, just like a valley,
To me, in my formative years, you were my greatest ally.

you are my rainbow,
the beauty after the rain
the peace after the storm
you are my rainbow
turning black and white
into colorful hues
you are my rainbow
my glimpse of paradise
but you won’t even last

I'm searching for intelligent life
not in outer space but here on earth.
I turn over a rock
and find congress, the president,
a couple used car salesman
and a worm.

the choice is obvious.

The opposite of creativity:
Staring at a blank sheet of
Notebook paper and thinking
The simplicity of the neatly
Placed blue lines is
Good enough.

Sometimes you have no reason to stay,
and realize that's a perfect argument to go.
And that taking an entirely new way,
is the sore but single method to grow.

If you're washed-on abeyance's bight,
and you feel decision's heavy heft:
To choose the left where nothing's right,
or go to the right where nothing's left.

Remember it matters not where you proceed,
or which mountain you want to ascend.
It does not matter whether you succeed,
it is the journey that matters in the end.

I wonder how I've ended back up in this position
dependant on not just a chemical or two, but
dependant on the love of a person
You see, I was not born a human, nor have I lived as one,

I'm used to the beauty of the darkness, for in dark places
beautiful flowers grow, but it takes eyes
shadowed in darkness for decades to see them
and to pluck them, one needs a still heart
that no longer beats with the rhythm of a living being

that darkness has shaped my world, shaped my mind
yet in her voice, her words, and her love
I've found myself slipping from that place
being pulled into one in which I do not know how to live
Here there is light, and sights to be seen
with eyes practiced to the sun

I used to believe the universe whispered to me
and maybe it still does, it's just that it's been so long
since I've listened, that its song is distant
raw, and uncaring

You see the universe is lonely,
that's why it turned into you, and into me,
to be embraced with it's own warmth
to embrace itself in its own desire,
what a simple thing we endeavor, is it not?

By becoming creatures bounded in time, and space,
we've forgotten our true self and along with it
the wellspring of love that created us,
now we seek it, although in lesser forms,
experiencing it with only a few
and the upper casts of beings know this,

Somewhere deep in our subconscious we also understand, and we know that we've forgotten it.

It's just that demons have embraced darkness, and a total absence of love, while we try to fill ourselves with small glimmers plucked from flowers that grow in the sun.

Demons, on the other hand, pluck flowers that grow only in the darkness, and those flowers have power over mortals, they will call to thee and under their spell, you will dream dreams meant for only devas, asuras, demons, and spirits.

This nectar is not meant for humans, yet in our arrogance, we reach for their stock and supply,
and with it we compose beautiful songs and paint beautiful shapes, we piece together majestic art and music that can open the mind, bend it, twist it, and mold it in ways from which it can never retreat.

We create,
Things that even devas desire,

We create,
Things that even demons devour,

But to us humans these things are toxic, they are too much, and we become lost to them.
Such that we call madness is a consequence of reaching too deeply into the well of knowledge with an unbalanced, ignorant, distracted, and frail mind, and in doing so, we forsake everything for the pitifullest glimpse of eternity.

In that place; only gods and asuras may roam freely; humans, on the other hand, are far too greedy,
far too curious, far too ignorant, and far too dangerous to possess such knowledge.

We should stick to light plucked from flowers growing in the sun,
because those flowers which grow in the darkness will only lead to our damnation, the conclusion of our race, and the manifestation of something far more terrible than any of our myths ever suggested.