He lies flat on the rooftop
looking at the stars.

Useless worlds birthing and dying
he muses
the colossal magnificence of waste

if atrophy is the verdict
why create a complex web of universe
just because someone from an island
would stare at them
in awe of the beauty
seeking a key to the riddle
himself a grain of dust
lost in reading the firmament
and not grasping
of what significance
he is
within his shrinking space and time
in an expanding universe.

Every night you are cuddling with a shadow
that lies there somewhere in between your
memory and reality...
Every night you are cuddling with a shadow
and there is no one to hold you,to embrace
you,to put their feet between yours..
Every night you are cuddling with a shadow
there is no easing out of this pain,you
will get through it,but I know you will
be forever cuddling with a shadow

i waste my hands
trying to erase the trace and marks,
the ones you've left
upon my skin and heart.
but they kind of look like art,
so i'll just leave them right there where they are......

He presents what you see
with impeccable finesse.
He hides everything else behind the curtains.
Heavily veiled by his smiles...
Cleverly masked behind his script.

He stands elevated, taking his stage.
From his vantage he sees all.
He allows his facade to bask in the light...
Whilst keeping his back in the shadow.

He's renowned.
By the light that kills the dark.
He's addicted to the nightly ovations,
cascading cheers and gleaming reviews.

But every show has an end.
Come every dawn, he wakes to the reality
that tolls at his door.
He's owned and he knows it...
Too well,
by the stage he built
and the drama he wrote and casted.

You
You should know by now
that your flashing cursor
lives in a temporary domain

That you will only
remain silent
between chatting neurons
and won't live to see
the day 10 years
from now

I'll be sipping from
champaign flutes,
you'll gather dust,
and your color will fade
by the sun without guilt
nor remorse

Your logo is a curse,
a badge,
that reads
Hello My Name Is:
existence temporary.

for you don't know me
nor the font I choose
you don't feel these words
like I do

You think your so
perfect by correcting
the misspelled
and underlining
past mistakes

You can take your
fascists dictionary
and grammer
machine

and depart into
darkness
into
a cold
black screen