My heart feels like it's holding its breath.
Like a two year old mid tantrum
and blue in the face,
knowing it can't
hold out
much longer.

I am absent from your reality,
Deep into the words
There waiting for myself to reappear.
In other things i imagine myself,
Away travelling in the universe
Of my mind,
Some places that i have never been
Are waiting for me to get there,
The depths of myself.

Im here in these words
In bits and pieces
That wanted me to turn into language
So i could express them,
The trees and the skies and
The world around that does
Bot speak but says more than
Anyone man.

I fall deeply
Away from flesh
And my spirit puts on the words
That the world cannot speak.

I speak not for myself
But that which language was invented
For,
That we might put into words
Such unspeakable beauty.

no where
no way
it is antithesis
to what I set out
believing
that heart
and feelings
overcame
the rude
scholars
the intelligence

if you see me out late at night
looking like i'm about to cry
please believe it's allergies
and not the fact she's not with me

though i'll never really understand
the main reason that she left
so if my head is hanging low
it's not the fact i miss her so

if she's near me and my heart skips a beat
that's not to say she's my greatest need
or i miss her more than i let on
since the day that she's been gone

i'm doing fine, the time of my life
remember these aren't tears i cry
all a part of being a man
nothing to do with lost romance

as anyone can plainly see
all this doesn't mean a thing

Modulated essence of vocalization
does not escape my seized lips.
Motionless they are without movement,
a corpse of inactivity are my verbs.

But when stain white sheets are lingering
in front of my eyes, I'm jested to use movement
of wording to express the convulsions that
expire from my mind to that below.

Seismic episodes expel and what was a land
of undiscovered wealth ruptures forth.
My expression is unformulated but even though
whispers aren't heard, ever syllable is understood.

Even though my vocalization is versed in silence,
every word is throw into the words understanding.
Hear me through muted words of expression that
vocalize from your eyes on my versed words.

I'm vacant in the eyes of many,
                   they say I'm empty  
                                          without worth.

But worth is gained by gesture not
                  following a herd that feed on
the grass of  false verses...

If you are nourished with enough forgiving's
                   then you are full of nothingness
but indoctrinated into a truth of wordings false.

I believed in the early ventures of myth but then I
                   grew up, but those of other minds still
lingered in the past and don't contemplate proper truths.

I'm vacant they say, but I am a vessel of truths not of
falsehoods that cradle are minds,
                    rocking us into servitude, I'm free evermore.

"We should be a book of learning but we linger on
prescribed lies that we are hooked upon.

*"Freedom is a motion of truths, but some are the
sheep of conformity and sway with the heard.

A vague misty haze
Blanketed the world.
Only dull shapes could be made out
Through the primordial fog .


It is said that in those times
The very earth could change shape.
The moment it's observer looked away,
As if it was itself, alive.


The only certainty of form,
Was brought with light,
Which was a luxurious commodity
Before the great forges were lit.


With the dawning of light,
So too dawned life as we know it,
Which flourished and grew,
Under the light of newborn stars.


But now the forges
Are all but extinguished.
Dark spots envelop the sky
Where stars once churned.


It has already begun,
The end to light's long reign.
And with its end,
Will obscurity return,


In the rolling fog of ages.