Daddy issues
Women issues
Despair in my soul

Star Trek at home
Midnight's broken toll

Death obsessions
Strange confessions
The American Abyss

In my solitude
In times like this

       Embers' kiss.

The real prophets are dying
The fake prophets are living
Man rather render services to sin
To be immortal, gods of their own, wherein
Man should martyr for the cause of goodness
Where’s the benefit of that if you’re lifeless.

Under gloomy skies,
I stand watching the raindrops,
Thinking about you.

It’s the essence of sensation,
the elastic feel in the body,
spiritual flame in the heart,
the wild movement that
lights up earth and sky.

It’s the centrifigal force
that radiates mood’s sunshine,
the moment of unexpected torque,
infinitely complicated yet simple
in its sublime resonance.

Each step is gifted,
each step an idea,
a word unspoken,
a poem in the making.

For dance is flux and motion,
a viseral trance, a carefree discipline
of endlessness promising bright
tomorrows until the final release
beyond earth-bound dimensions.