As you breath,
With trapped lungs,
Like a fly caught,
In the silkiest of webs.
Her manifold shell,
Multiple eyes of harrowing,
A succubus to the harmless,
dampening a gentle candle lit,
In sheer darkness.

******* on our blood,
Like a hundred leaches,
Her nature thicker than mud.
Fluid runs smooth,
like ash and water,
but she stains your heart,
in gray poisonous matter,
Using you like puppet on strings,
from the very start.

She hides behind the lies,
That she fills within your head,
like a hot air balloon,
soaring through skies,
Unaware of what's below,
Avoid prickly skinned women,
They'll eat you alive.

When poets thought I was dead
When my ashes were  scattered
When I was  running
and my heart was stuck on a barbed wire


When I am  too old to create rhymes
couldn't pull heartstrings with my ink
or color a beautiful city with crayons

When my words were plagiarized
and I fell victim to the inevitable  

When the tsunami tides were approaching
and you sent me a rhythmic piece
to keep me company

When I could barely form words,
that would impress my shadow
When you lighten up my bolt
by commenting a sacred criticism and love for my pieces