The  gutters are full with
Non-believers and
The obvious wrong.
I always knew they
would get there way
What the asked for
All along.
An easy way out…
Be it a bullet in there
Skull
Or poison in there
Stomachs.
The feeling is of remorse
But they only feel pity.
They’ve convinced themselves
Right In their
head
That everyone is just better off
Dead.

I am longing summer rain.
Sweet cohesion, cold to touch.
The rain clouds red to the setting sun.
I miss the poetry, spewed
On those nights; Friends held close
I need those moments
that are so dear.
Being a masked vigilante,
And a gazelle.
I will walk these quiet streets
And it will be
As it was
In the summer.

I am sitting in a dim room,
Inside of another room
Inside one even larger.
All around me, I can hear
It. The distant twang
Of a sting.
It radiates through the air
Cooling it, a chill transpires.
Standing guard at the watchtower;
I am the prophet of life.
Another twang is sounded.
The beautiful silk,
Is pleasing to the touch.
My mind drifts
Through the loneliness
Of summer. The days
Spent lazily, and
The friends that moved away.
I am proud to keep watch.
upon this tower of light.
I am the prophet.

From flickering flames
My fate sets in
Splashing color onto the rose.
Drawing hearts in the sand.
I apply more paint to the canvas
Painting the world around us.
Borrowed pigment,
Is splattered on my face.
My carbon is running out
I might just lose control.
This is so fragile.
I can feel it bending.
Who knew time
Would die.

Lights in the distance,
Through the fog of darkness.
I can see her, the way she was.
With curls in her hair.
In the center of the city she is waiting.
Hopes sinking.
Tears are forming.
In the sky
I see the clouds.
Rain drops fall

No one tells you
The feeling will leave
Emotions fade
Evaporate.
Senses will eventually
Dull
Just like the rest.
One day
You will awake
And find yourself
Staring inwards
Just looking around
Searching for those
Precious memories
You swear you kept.
That’s when it hits you
Everyone dies.

My blood, flowing crimson red with words,
Sentences, in the form of flying birds.
An ocean of my thoughts, and dreams.
Bright and shinning it brilliantly gleams.

My love, a tree, constantly growing.
More like a stream, forever flowing.
Imbedded deep into the earth,
A great richness of intense worth.

My heart, soaring, above the trees.
Over mountains, and vast seas.
Across the earth, all for you,
I bring orange sun sets, and skies of blue.

To paint a picture, oh so fair,
Capturing beauty, is like capturing air.
Her face, imprinted in my mind,
A type of beauty, hard to find.