I am suspended in a time that is lost
in the laughter
flowing from my lips.
And no one ever told me,
there is no way out of this.

I am past recognizing solid ground
and burning
from the memories I keep.  
Still, my Muse sings a lullaby
while my destiny weeps.

Paper flowers litter the floorboard
of my heart
and go up in smoke inside my head.
I can't control
a single breath ahead.

My thoughts choose to stay inside the ink
where there's no risk
of living outside this time.  
I can feel dust gathering...
on my rhymes.

Standing
with nothing - there is still
so much more
to give

Alone
sits easy,
with toes dipped, in
four leaved
clover.

We
absolve
ourselves with the
tenacious honesty
of tomorrows'
sunrise

Brazen,
underneath starlit skies."Observe;
We too, have died before."

Bodies
alight, with heavenly fires;
Intense, passions
igniting
pure reactions.

Join
and part
each atom of self
to allow
flow.

As
saline spills,
filling emptiness
with oceans,
across
arid plains.

One
single flower
blooming, silently, in decoration
     of soulful beauty        
  
Whisper,
  our riddling
faintly defined
shadows
stuck
   to    
                                            missing       pieces.                                            

                          Together                     ­     
                               in needs ...                          
                                                            [of yours, or, mine]     
  **We... are here

An unfading melody fills my life
with a beauty
that covers my scars with ink
of a rhyme's desire
I can’t dismiss.  
And  I remember,
some things, move smooth as silk
like  laughter filled words
of a lover’s kiss.

The ink
which is burned upon my name
sleeps with my every hope
searching only…….
for happiness.  
It looks at me with an expectant face
in those moments
when my mind can’t rest.

The slightest touch of this  melody
leaves me waiting to shine  
with outstretched hands.  
My heart overflows with the beauty
of a thousand lights
changing color
at my command.

I can feel
the ink of my soul
writing……
on each and every breath
this melody breathes.  
While the ink burned upon my name
finds the happiness
it needs.

Where stated*; The reality is, *usually measured in, metric disappointment.