I write
from all the corners of my heart.
I write from every chamber,
from every ventricle that pumps the blood
that circulates throughout my soul.
I write
when I am succeeding as a human being
and I write
when I fail,
and sometimes,
I fail on a grand scale,
but at least I write.
I write.

He who can balance the words
'power' and 'limitations' in his hands;
understands soundly
the definition of responsibility
and it's burden upon his shoulders.

To rule the world justly
is to bare the labours of Atlas.

at 12:00 my world changes from the ordinary to a black infinite hole that you cant escape no matter how hard you try. there is no end to this horror story. i live by myself... i cant explain what the feeling of being trapped in a never ending horror story called my life. i dont know how long i can carry on living this book i know theres no such things as happily ever afters so how will this horror end... i suppose just like this...THE END.

It makes me angry
That all these years
I have sat,
longingly searching
for the green light.

Yet, when I reached out my arms
to embrace destiny,
I found myself hugging smoke;
My Daisy, nothing more than
a forgotten dream reflected
in the dark waves of the lake,
like scattered puzzle pieces
under the moonlight.

Oh, soft lavender fields
                                     dancing
             over the hills
                                                  to you.
Olives; wine in your glass
                                       deep purple
              over the hills
                                         splashing
Over the hills
                          pouring down
                                                    into the sky
chasing away
                       orange minnows.
On soft lavender
                          dancing
                 over
                          to you.

A long time ago, in this land, before people forgot my name.
I do not understand why they forgot, or what was forgotten.
It is only a thousand miles separating us
and the unity of space travels through the jolts of electric currents.
I am not alone—
neither are you, we are both buried deep inside ourselves
hidden behind the masks of personalities we have
taped over around our faces
two deep beings, burrowed beneath the thumping
jumbles of our thoughts, meditating in the core
and whispering quietly like wheat upon the land.

Sometimes I feel my heart is swollen with love.
Other times I feel it is chipper but narrow as a bird:
singing out praise while breathing so little air.