As beautiful as a rose is,
it has lots of thorns
So is life,
Very beautiful but it also gets rough

the job of the artist
is to be
luminous and dangerous

luminous to others
by being
dangerous to themselves

when the words are ripped from the chest,
atmosphere disbursed by the body’s projectile messes,
starburst fireworks,
luminous and dangerous,
luminating the shared night,
laminating your truths,
in poems disguised

and so the job,
our work,
begins

My Jealousy, you inspire me to write.
I hate the way you reach, walk and shiver,
Invading my mind day and through the night.

Brittle, weak I don't want to be but its me
hurts emotionally. In my chest it aches and tears down my self
esteem.

I want to be someone else not me.
Oh my jealousy,It's degrading and hurtful.
It has an evil mind
And a sad smile, furthermore
It lingers, I feel frightened.

Her name was autumn
her hair a colour auburn
like a fallen leaf
drifting on the breeze
spiraling spiraling
out of control
a free spirit
with a wild soul
for she had no master
a limitless beauty
all I heard was her laughter
as she danced for me.