As I write in water and
The birds fly,
I try not to see in the upside-down.
Change is for your wealth
The stress has trickled down.

Knowledge of a fort night
I can only wish in a night,
And the forgiveness of a flower
Is a blessing from our mothers

Seeing through a barrel,
My eye becomes lodged in,
Seeing from the inside,
Forcing the view of thought;
Necessary for a diplomatic plot.

Letters from my head in the realm
Of the half dead
Leave me pondering for an hour
After a quick morning shower-
After I've seen the unseen and
Act with cowardous power.

The state of Nirvana,
in the gloomy, rainy city
everyone hates to love,
became famous for hatred
and sadness,
died just the same-

like the state of nirvana,
calm and once overcome
with sadness, dying
just the same
in a city that loves to hate.

In the recent death of my
funeral friend, we climbed up a tree.
All the way at the top we found a
peach and the breeze.
And as time passed on,
I had realized I had seen
my friend leave me, for
the beautiful breeze.

A fearing optimistic tries
so hard, for so long
to see his hopes fly away
and fall among the corpses
of his ways.

Returning once again
fearing the future in front of him.

Often-
I do not feel I've softened,
among the shallow grave
of the high ten,..
yearning for the execution
of the rest of them.

Not often do I feel the presence
of others in the narcisism
of the mirror in their pockets and
in the ego in my noggin...

And not often do I sweat from
the realm of ideas in the
middle of a winter that never
sees the cold.

Not every so often

What really hurts?
Make sure to be clear, misinterpretation can be fatal
In the game your brain plays.

Now for me, deception still holds a
warm cozy place in my head.
Eating on my decaying body,
trying so hard to reach my
essence.
Since after I realize this, I must
decipher the message:

I still lie to myself, telling myself I'm
Honest.
And dominately, I'm the follower,
the front follower.
I conclude: in depth, I'm sort of empty,
depressingly.

maybe I'll just sleep

My trident is dull
and the sea is getting deeper-
up until it sees the sun and
and leaves...

left in a hurry- but the right way
after such a tragedy in the history of
sin-
and complex emotions word of
tongue cannot show the remoteness
of our essence