Another journey beset
by spectator's spectacles
forced afore my face.

If I could paint one picture, what our love meant to me.
I'd paint such a masterpiece, where sunset meets the sea.
Splashing vibrant colors, reds mixed in with blues.
Combining orange and yellows, all soaking in for you.
The painting placed in lovely frame, would hang and last forever.
But unlike such a special piece, we wouldn't stay together.
Each night the sun and ocean meet, once more they become one.
Our love however didn't last, the dreams had come undone.
The painting will then forever be, a remembrance of me and you.
Of how we couldn't harmonize, as a sun and ocean do.

Bicycling
my words
backwards
in lower case
they became
visceral.

Our eyes were closed when we first began to see
though they were weak with sorrow
lit through light, though darkness still prevailed
and to him, who wandered desperately
the fire never died, though we were dead as nails
we wearied ourselves uselessly, but never without hope

I would prefer your graceless presence.
Rather then suffer their false fragrance.

The more the illusion
I choose.
The more the truth
I lose.