Eyes peeled with hopeful hearts.

Question everything.

Open minds
Breaking chains
And freeing cages.

Let go of it all.
Defend nothing other than sovereignty and pure love.

With love and freedom
We fly.

my love
im Dracula moon
a trembling hunger
come to fill the empty
space in my throat
with a small bite
that nips and shudders
putto rose
like a fly buzzing in the blood
a thirsty shadow
of eager tongues
for succulent
brooding areolas

im crepuscular music
each note a puncture
of the miraculous
to hollow you out
with obsessions
of tossing vampiric
blade blossoms
that spin like prayer wheels
of honey and blood
in the ancient temples
of Katmandu

I think at times like this

I blame You.

I burn with such an intense hatred for my pure existence.

I didn't want this.

You created me and I have seen too much to believe You don't exist.

I know you hear me.

I know You hear me cussing and cursing the Universe and shouting until my throats raw and my lungs give out.

I'm defeated.

And when my tantrum is over and
I've cried and pouted, sat with it for as long as I could...

Then the worst realization always
Begins to sink into my bitterness.

Now to return in humility and fealty.
To come to You at my knees
And admit my powerlessness without You.

Begging in vulnerability for some
******* help.
For love and support,
My apologies with open heart.

Existing is painful so I blame You.
Existing is blissful so I thank You.
.  .  .
Being You must **** too.

But oh,
How I strive to be just like You.

My ink rarely rhymes.  
And I write words
even myself
can’t understand.
Daily ink spills
and splatters
on my tangled sheets,
sometimes I’m ashamed of.
The empty, naked
mosaic of love letters,
you thought.
My canvas of colorful illusion,
dim and chaotic,
you said.
The words I write to you,
for you.
Words that always land
on your silent, unappreciative lips,
unseen by your darkly unsympathetic eyes.
A poem you wouldn’t want to read,
A poem you wouldn’t want to hear.
A garden you wouldn’t want to tend.
And now that the teardrops
have ceased,
the birds in the cages
have been freed,
the plants unwatered and flowers are left wilted,
the winds have begun to blur
the memories,
the ink has run dry,
and no more thoughts of you remain.
I have nothing more to say.
    I have nothing more to wish.
There is none to plead.
    My ink and my love for you
    have now rested in peace.

And, they were mere words
Language understood by few
Fewer, read emotions
The heart, remains red
The wall clean,
erased
And again,
just words