I wonder if God
    sees our numbered
breaths, how many
     have been & how
many are left,
millions of digits
    shifting above
our heads;
the old woman
 on the park bench
        with just 500 left. 
The jogger with 100
   between now &
        tonight when he
will exhale
     for a final time.
I should scale mountains,
         stare at the sun
  make my amount
  count, every last one.

Perfection... with my eyes closed
I see what I want to see
Feel what I want to feel
Owned the world in a blink of a moment

Mountains, seas,  places in dreams, all is free...
Hear the music that calm the demon inside me
See the colors worth to pay my eyes to be blind
And fall in love with someone that never and will never exist

Death, oh death would be the life of what if’s
What if I am her or what if I have him
The world of perfection says
*"Close your eyes and own me."

Letters, unwritten words
Papers, empty spaces
Waiting for the matrimony to create poetry
But how when I'm Losing Ink

I remember the time it's full
Filled with dreams, tears and fears
Now the blood of misery is diluting
And I'm Losing Ink

I should be glad, but how could I be
When the only medium I used to have is depleting
And I can’t lay my words on canvas
I know I'm Losing Ink

Empty, floating on a galaxy of being half
Undefined feeling, making no capacity to fill the cartridge
Week by week I’m getting weak
*And every day, I can feel I’m Losing Ink