I tapped into a magic realm
I didn't even know was there--
found a phantom ghost
with firelight and embers
glowing in its hair--

                                was this a spirit
                                coming for me
                                                              ­someone who might
                                                           ­   somehow set me free
and bring me along
to another life
away from this hell I'm in?

                                                            ­ OR what if this is a monster
                                                              (n­ow that I see its evil grin)
                                                   and it wants to torture me even more?

What if I can't escape this spirit
through an open door...
and I become trapped for all of time?
oh dear, dreams are haunting me again
in this crazy realm of mine!

Forgive me my envy
of your amazing lives--
you who have children
you who have husbands
or you who have wives--
I left a life of torture and pain
so long ago, you see--
and now all I have left
is living alone --
yep, just me.

So, forgive me my envy
of your amazing lives
for I know that what I lived
was not right or good
even though I tried--
I saw I could not survive
the pain and anguish
heaped on top of me
I had to run, to leave
the intense torture, you see...

but still I envy those
who have loves and lives to share
who know that they come home
to someone who will
truly love and care
and perhaps in time
I'll have that one day too--
but for now, please...
forgive me for having
such envy of those like you...

Man, we are an ugly,
broken,
people, aren't we?
We formed a society that abhors following ones' own desires.
A society that demands participation!
Or expiration...
We turn ourselves,
into necrotic sacks of flesh.
Motion after motion,
waiting on death.
**** it,
*******,
**** me.
**** everything man.
Our demise is inevitable.
The clocks been ticking for a millennia,
no one's watching.
Tick-tock,
tick-tock.
The world stops turning,
and we burn.

There's no secret
just stories to be told
of Love anew
or lovers of old

Not just of people
But love of things
Perhaps a flower
Or bird as it sings

Whether it be nature
Or matters of the heart
The simplest of occurrences
Has a poetic spark

Observation
marrying fantasy
experience
begetting reality

A poet's table
Is a smorgasbord
Consume all you like
There'll always be more

She turned to a stone, before his unbelieving eyes!
in earlier times this would be counted as the result of a  curse,
an analysis, on how it happened seemed futile, so he didn't pursue
He chisel and hammer ominously were left somewhere,
she was irretrievably trapped, within a queer shaped stone .

it was a hundred miles away
from my thoughts to your soul
it was as cold as december
where should i possibly
go?
if
it's
a dream
or a fantasy
or could it be
real?

i
tried
to
wake up
on my own feet
but
i
feel so heavy
my mind
is as blank
as a paper
without
written back from your
thoughts.
It is kind of a mess, sometimes.
it doesn't follow
patterns nor rules to crash.
i was hoping
till late at night
that you'll remember me
perhaps,
will
you
think
of
me?