it's days like these
when everything is wet
but it's not raining
when black crows stand out
on a cloudy grayscale
minor chords that perch
on empty branches and telephone poles
and roam the main roads
when no cars are passing

it's days like these
when the trees know a sad song
and weep in the autumn fog

Here us and old one from years ago. It is flawed but enjoy.



A young lad abroad, was searching for truth
for what happens whenever we die.

A priest told him this, a monk told him that.
which one was fact and which one was lie?

The young lad was perplexed and filled up with grief.
He continued to search and to learn.

But the more that he read and the more he was told,
the more fear built up that he'd burn.

The young lad fell to his knees on the side of the road
and begged to be shown what was real.

"There are so many answers, and all of them different!
Oh, how am I supposed to feel?!"

Just then an old man, with a smile on his face,
asked him what caused so much grief.

The young lad said, through torrential tears,
"Without answers I'll never be strong."

"Does heaven exist? Will I go to hell?
Will all that I know simply end?

There are so many roads, which one should I take?
Do you know the answer, my friend?"

The old man sighed and said through a grin,
"There's a question more grand than the latter."

He grabbed the young lad, and looked deep in his eyes.
"The question is why does that matter?"

sickly sweet his muttered breath
stinking of rain and ***
nicotine that stuck to his sweat
                                      and monsters between his lips
                   they start to slip--

                                      casualties of carcinogens
                   sand paper made of tired skin
peeled away
sliced off
cut in
                   slipped away
                                                         --addictions forgotten how to stay
                                      their sweet poison the only company
                   and bittersweet, missed opportunities
and how you've slipped away from me.

                                      surprise, surprise.

Her glossy, black pupils meet the ancient, but thoroughly clean, mirror.

In a state when one can stare into the eyes of themselves staring into their own eyes.

She releases the twisted towel and without hesitation the thick curls fall onto her still dampened shoulders.

She slowly reaches forward, carefully outstretching her hand to smear the steam from the mirror too cold for its temperature to have been altered.

The shoulder droplets formed together and created two diminutive streams that rolled down her lower back.

With her reflection no longer obscured, she stared at her mirror image that was staring into her eyes.

They smiled at her when they realized that she was no longer alone.

To sit and spin
Our blood within.
Must travel & turn'th
For oxygen it yern'th.

So too the earth doth spin
Similarly warmed from within
It rotates around a point of union.
The generation of Helium from Hydrogen.

The sun releases its emission of light and heat
The catalyst that allowed your heart to beat.
So too the planets worship the star
Forever in view but yet too far

Although it can create
It can destroy without debate.
It shall burn until its fit to burst
And explode to what it was once first.

Stardust.

I see it everywhere
It's in your eyes and in your hair
That special way that you sit and stare.
Oh, to be part of a perfect pair.

Only such beauty could be formed from a shining star.
If only you were not so far.