what spawn of madness lies behind the crooked lens
chains tied to the entropy of ends
chaos bound to nothing but ourselves;
now unfolding fate that we’ve propelled.
somehow now, beyond the folds
withholding beyond reach;
the light of every star unknown
will rapture; be unleashed.
so I may bend and break the lines
of all the rules they teach
i’ve made my own,
this world is mine,
no longer shall I sleep.

i’ve painted gentle pictures on the insides of my mind;
with a water-colored brush, no sense of where to end the lines,
without periphery to guide me, no direction to define
and even less, a sense of definition to entice my eyes.

but as the paint would splatter, there was always more to go,
and once her lovely darling eyes would ask me,
i would find new things to show,
as if they were becoming
an alignment with my own,
she was the only thing that told me
i could find my own lost soul.

and that’s perhaps the reason why
she could not stay to see
if she could be the one
to really help myself find me.

but i’ll always be
...searching,
for more
of it

when hope has a chance
i will soften my heart

for once,
no words.
only feelings,
and their intimate
communications

trust is like a mirror’s lust
to convey only truth;
to portray even clearer views
of what remains astute.
and in its path;
beholder’s eyes
are searching for the roots;
reminded of the innocence
protected by their youth

but left with only what is there
the self observed is unaware
and though reflections seem to move;
at truth you’re made to stare.