I stand upon the cliff’s last breath,
Where tides arise and thunder spills.
Scavengers circle, watching, waiting—
Yet life still lingers in my bones.

The clouds above, like silent judges,
Could break and drown my fleeting hope.
Beneath, the ocean coils and beckons,
A fathomless abyss of sorrow.

The silver moon, a gleaming specter,
Summons waves to pull me under.
I teeter on the fragile edge,
One slip, one plunge into the deep.

Lightning snarls—a voice of warning,
A jolt to burn or leave me scarred.
If not with fire, then silent shadows
Will haunt me long beyond this night.

I saw the algae, once alive,
Now ghosts adrift upon the tide.
The trees I passed stood tall together,
Yet whispered falsehoods to the wind.

Serpents coil around their roots,
Whispering promises of power.
Many fall to hollow hunger,
Chasing echoes, craving ruin.

But air is shared, though lungs may differ,
And souls define, not flesh alone.
Roots can mend, bear fruits of wonder—
Change, though feared, is never lost.

If you listen, let it guide you.
Nature bends but bids us rise.
Though the storm may rage relentless,
Yet even storms must bow to light.

Encased in talent like a uniform,
The rank of every poet is well known;
They can amaze us like a thunderstorm,
Or die so young, or live for years alone.
They can dash forward like hussars: but he
Must struggle out of his boyish gift and learn
How to be plain and awkward, how to be
One after whom none think it worth to turn.

For, to achieve his lightest wish, he must
Become the whole of boredom, subject to
****** complaints like love, among the Just

Be just, among the Filthy filthy too,
And in his own weak person, if he can,
Must suffer dully all the wrongs of Man.

You know my name? Congratulations.
But did you ever truly know me? I think not.

You never scared the hell out of me—not once.
Do you even know my weaknesses? Doubt it.
Maybe I’d let you think you do, just for fun.

Let me spell it out for you.

At birth, my lungs were weak—yet I survived.
I had asthma, a weak heart—I pushed through.
Dengue hit me hard, yet I never stepped foot in a hospital. Immortal, maybe.

I kicked a glass once—six stitches later, I still felt the needle pierce my skin.
I fainted, got injured, had surgeries—three times.
Ear, gums, adrenal gland—cut me open, I still came back.

Death doesn’t scare me.
You? Even less.

And judgment? That’s not yours to give.
Not theirs either. Only God can judge me, and He does so once—upon my death.

So listen, mere mortal.
Quit the act. Stop pretending you’re perfect—because you’re not.

In a world of half-truths
Where everyone likes to argue
And prove themselves right
To win every fight
Life is a game to some
But I feel too dumb
To play like the devil
I'm not on their level
I avoid the bread of evil
To feast on holy gravel
For I have rocks in my gut
Stomach pain keeps me in a rut
I recall things I said
When I'm lying in bed
They said I rock the boat
So they threw me overboard
To sever the cord
Between me and the LORD
Now I'm sinking like lead
Nearly dead
I can feel the compression
But here's my confession
Though I've been tossed out to sea
And they celebrate victory over me
I've become more intelligent
My desire for truth is pertinent
On the inside I'm full of glee
And my soul is happy

I strained in my iniquity
Looking for the light
In the mist of my
darkest blackness
a voice whispered
"You have to turn and fight "
Gather up the flocks of words
Make them the sacrifice of your lips
Record what flies through the air
From the axe that's sending chips

Wisdom is what wisdom does
There's no room for shadows of delight
Let you face be baptized
Bathe upon the light

The intelligence of words makes us happy
Much more than the feelings from the heart
Offer up the sacrifice of our lips
Make it the bridge that spans the arch