On this bitter morn’
At the passing of the night
Inclined I am by the crack of dawn
On white paper rhymes to write.
These days spent in solemn peace
Had emptied my mind of thought
I could not see just how it is
‘Till this poem to me was brought
Once again rustled was my soul
Stood still did my heart
Blood in my veins icy cold
In this peculiar month of March
What hath been forsaken
Presumably by my mind
From ignorance was awoken
To haunt these very lines
To haunt or to bless
Whichever it may be
I call upon forgetfulness
For only she can save me
I never should have met you
Not here, not now
Yet the Lord had a different view
High above this petty ground
Though to Him, I pray
Every night, and every day
Keep her eyes bright
And send me on my way
Allow me to forsake
These memories of her
Allow for her just the same
May our souls no longer hurt
Call upon the weavers of fate
So our destinies may realign
And each other we could find
In a better place
At a different time.

what is the boiling point
of the human soul?

And if you look,
Hard enough.
Poets never get famous,
Unless they die...
Or,
Commit suicide.

a kiss
so small yet
so painful
on lips of mine
naught but ash
on my mind
the lips of hers
of lipstick red
with cherry taint.

Oh, if only you knew
What I saw in your eyes
If only I could tell you
And touch your very soul
Perhaps the skies would clear
Perhaps the Angels would not weep.

Sole love of mine
Heed these desperate cries
Of my soul lost
Within your lonely eyes
Allow me entrance
Into your world
So beautiful and tame
Allow me to escape
My crooked realm
Decadent and pale
If denial is my fate
I plea, forsake me not
From your eyes
Like honey golden
From your heart
Like a glacier frozen.

There exists a dream girl
Roaming in her dream world
Unfathomable realms
She has explored
Telling stories never told
Through time she travels
On magic clouds
Like a child unspoiled
Forever young within her world
Of innocent whim
And nature pure.