"Is that all there is?"
The eternal question answered:
"Is that all you've found?"

By the time you swear you're his,
  Shivering and sighing,
And he vows his passion is
  Infinite, undying -
Lady, make a note of this:
  One of you is lying.

Be the person to leave a mark
not a scar

I dress in
this skin I'm in
Some days thick
while others thin
It all depends
the mood I'm in
To how thick or thin
I wear my skin

I also have
different degrees
Of thick or thin
that cover me
From one coat on
to two or three
Adding color
to my skins needs

Be it thick or
be it thin
It all depends
the mood I'm in...

We are star stuff recycled over and over again.
You are a reflection and an injection
of all the stars, cosmic junk, and other stuff
that cluttered space. Your pale face
wears billions of years of history.
Your eyes that watch the heavens
were once that which burnt the brightest
in the heavens.
Your heart pulses like the particles in pulsars,
which now constitute the core of your being

So, when we die, when the sun collapses
and all our mass is ****** in and spewed out,
I hope my particles play with yours.
I hope our atoms give birth to a new universe.
Let our being be together in purple clouds
that cross the cosmos singing song of static
in infinity
swirling in a universal dance.
Let me orbit you as my heart is want to do;
Even, if your molecules would rather
orbit another.

When did this problem come along
As we divide ourselves while subtracting souls
There is no plus to any of this

What one and one used to do
Equalled out to the count of two
That must have been the old arithmetic

Now one and one are on their own
Finding it hard to add things up
When mostly now life is just a guess

Used to be as easy as one, two, three
Then we add in this minus society
And the problem that we have is with the math

in case you don't remember:
the left is always right

The black cat
cried out loud
to the moon from
a place where she
couldn't be seen.
But from the sound
of the lonesome melody
i knew that autumn was here.
I never imagined that
death could be beautiful
untill i saw the falling leaves.
Red,golden,brown.
And I started to fall while
the crickets were singing
on the gentle breeze.
Months have passed.
I can't remember the
last time when i got lost
in my own thoughts,
staring at the old wooden
clock as the hands stroke midnight.
I feel like a bird locked
in an iron cage, desperate
for the freedom the sky offered,
although there was the
blue vast underneath.
Those who harbor their dreams
to be alone must have forgotten
how it's like to be lonely.
The air outside was poisonous
and not many gems
were sprinkled.
But the night sky does not
possess all the stars.
Some of them simply
belong to the sea.