My pocket poems
Isn’t worth much dowry
However, it’s all mine
Like nickel and dimes
Silver, or gold.
Tell out, my soul, to the world

the stillness
of this innocent gloom

of the lanterns silently gazing at the open field, wet,
swaying
as the slow evening whispers, sighs
waiting for the sky to fall back into the sea

I'm sitting here
on the wet wooden stairway
and thinking of you

Standing outside the broken window of life
Breathing In the poison, feeding on the strife
Crooked perspectives, singular views
Pain or numbness, which ever we choose
Dance, or play the music, either way the same beat
Watching the world die, bitter tasting treat
We watch, like spiders, weaving our web
Spin it out with words, views of life's flow and ebb
Feeding like ticks, off the emotions of others
Be it their actions, or smiles of fake lovers
Empathic designs, binding together
All we, watchers, into forever
This broken window, through which we all stare
Gives prysmic views, though never a glare