The rocking chair
  a paradise for termites
  front porch pictures portraying
   love are nebulous within her eyes
    she busks in the moment
    the delightful smell
    of the effloresecent
    garden being the front-row
   sit to memories of young
  lovers, a vistage of ecstacy
lost with time

  Frazzled by years of affairs
   She still yearns for that
   kiss that cares not for
   time and space that
   leaves a mark of falicity
  on her visage.
a birth mark for when love is
born as lady nature sings her songs

Stuck to an icy
   history of thought,
   the habitual web caught
the Fly in its enticing
   display of verbs
      that match the pattern:
      language is the matter,
   betraying ourselves with words.
   A tongue to its Work tied
      might make the spider
      think twice before biting;
   those venomous lies
we tell our Selves about
   helplessness and somedays
   victimization and blame,
empowering our self-doubt;

                    ∴

Devouring our might as writers,
    we have nothing if not pride;
      We take flight to the deepest parts
        of the universe of literature.
Neither nihilistic nor cynical,
    our linguistic is made of visuals.
      Verily we write with studious care,
        veracity a common trait we share:
We are an orchestra,
    a symphony of synchronised melody.
      Epiphanies emphasize tragedies
        that consume us repeatedly --
We seek to
    link our verses
      and feel deep connections
        when engulfed by depression

We came from wombs of literature baptized in wisdom of poets
teeming with knowledge
the cranium about to crack crowns not bestowed but earned

The anguish suffered and absorbed by those who wrote before us
laid grounds for the battle royal

The throne forged from fallen pens the smell of burning paper still alive
Across the journey we must embark to arrive and claim the crown

It is but the path before us to spill the blood, to travel the Trail of Tears
Speak it all in words that communicate your fears

Fell in deep slumber
But my soul is wide awake;
Nights filled with horrendous dreams
Or are those my realities haunting
me ?
Falling in the abyss of thoughts
Ready to feel shattered
and lost

my soul weakens and breaks my emotions separate themselves
from each other
and exit from my husk of my body
no one around as I die
lonely starving for love
i wake up
lonely

Afraid that
the dreams
could become reality
or at least haunt me
for the rest of my life ,
leaving my soul
forever tainted

I'm taunted but At the edges of my fears for a moment,
Wisdom breaths courage
And  I  a m F r e e  
With each step
I can see a glimpse
of elation
enchanting my soul
awakaning my hope
replenishing the hole
in the mists of my heart lost
without love joy is found
and at long last I am whole.

Hot, dry, no water in sight
The sun let's down burning light
For survival you fight, pushing forward with all your might

Skin cracked lungs bathing in sand each breath feels like a meal of niddles impalling you inside tears dry you can't even cry

The journey seems infinite there's no water in sight the wind more celascent than the sun dreams of rivers unfold as our minds are enveloped hope is dead we are doubters in the land of vultures

The vultures circling with winds blowing
A storm of sand envelopes the land. It fills your lungs making you cough and hack all while the sun and sand beat on your back
It gets in your eyes and you can no longer see nor stand, eyes shut, at the mercy of the sand