intention never went far
down the road at the
end but then again it
never did in its youth either
through the years its only
idea of excitement was the
thought of maybe being
young again in the future

still water blues of
hopeful forms and
endless colours

willingly neglecting the
obvious relapse of
melancholy and rejection as
adrenaline fades and you realize you are
number one

I have visited it in my mind, but not in my body
Imagined nature and it's smells
*A doe and her fawn walking just as the noon sun was setting
I,
Sitting, watching, waiting, writing
The birds twitter the music of their language
The soul soothed by the beauty of nature
Everything in it calming and healing to the soul
They don't have unnecessary violence that man has
They instead
Live with a food chain that nature has agreed upon and bestowed upon them to keep its balance
And I,
Sitting, watching, waiting, writing
Am letting my soul rest and have the wind, the smells, and the music cleanse a corner of my dark soul
And bring drop of light in it

You are the
beautiful mistake
happened in my life..........
       -cute crazy-

Children awake to sizzling butter and fresh eggs
Birds chirp and settle on their windowsills
Greeting them with the sound of nature.
How lovely it must be!

Childhood is all about the games and the play, they said.
Buttons are pressed,
Video games begin,
because violence is but a pixelated projection for them.

Two extremities of this earth are facing each other now.
Darkness lies on the opposite side.
What a shame!
Home now bleeds images of destruction.

Childhood is non-existent there.
Children awake to the nauseating scent of gunpowder,
Anxiety has filled their minds,
The future remains vague
Lives hanging on a thread
The drones set off missiles to cut it.

They are worth the entire world to their mothers
Young souls who are the lens from which their parents see happiness
but sadly,
survivors scrape the rubble off their ****** feet
scavenging for the roots they once tried to protect
wetting the ground with utter despair.

Home now bleeds destruction
and constant chaos.

I cannot fix
What is broken
Inside you.
All I can, is to be a
Band-Aid; a soothing
Breath upon the bruised
Knees of your heart's
History.

The healing itself
Is up to
You.

See her? She has it all.
He sleeps at night
and dreams of her.

Even the Moon
grows jealous
of his dreams.

He see her every day
on the train;
they do not speak;
she sits in one place,
he in another.

She looks
good enough to eat
he thinks.

He can't wait
until they speak,
until they meet,
make love,
sit and smoke;
have a joke.

See her? She has it,
he doesn't, he sits
looking at her
he has the hots;
inside he wastes,
inside he rots.