You're a pair of fishnets kept together by safety pins
A 4 A.M. dream that takes its previous time
A waste of a waste of your own medicine
Sure,I meant what I said,
And I do ever so apologize.
But , to love me is to love yourself in return.

a story is a story
a poem is a poem
a plot is a plot
a thought is a thought.

a letter is a letter
as a word is a word.
a sentence is a sentence
logical or absurd.

a language is a language
a book is a book
a thought is a thought
so let it be known
before our impending rot.

And the Marksman said,

"Aim for the heart, and not for the brow,

A punctured heart always heals somehow."

Through perjury

Through injury

The sting of treason

Rotates seasons.

the man on the roof
was a fool of which those around me concur
doing nothing at all
causing nothing less than an unending stir
so i walked on by
as my mind remained dry
from the corner of my eye
i realized.
the Man on the Roof was I
and my self-understanding had died.

A Cinderella Story
That even Dickinson could not tell
The repertoire that is my body
Slowly collapsing--
As the grave birds alarm for arrival.

I speak to someone that is no one
For strength and guidance within.
Yet anticipated signs only result--
In disappointing strains.

Those demons, they say,
They fill us with fear.
Silhouetting us with cloaks
That haven’t a beginning nor end.

They are made from our troubles--
Our hardships, our pain.
We know where they come from
But will never know their names.

What to do is to ignite
Burn the bridges, light the night.
As Cinderella did in that baby blue dress,
We’ll be alright.

Temptation red as Carmine

Tears as thick as cerulean

And here lies I shedding to your core

Vivid gradients expressing

What I need is more.

Such a strange contravene

What dwells inside never dares to be seen

Mellow yellow daydreams remind me of the laughter

But vivid gradients expressing

What I yearn for is thereafter.

Melancholy rests on mahogany busts

And just like brights, present turns to rust

How a beating flame disintegrates from the folds of my clutch

Vivid gradients fade

And submit to touch.