Another mark.
Another inch of skin covered.
Lines of words in languages from ages past.
Self expression to fill the silence.
Skin to speak when words fail.
Black artistry turned orange with time.
Orange is brown and all fades to be remade.
To remake and recreate is to preserve with intention.
Bleeding henna breeds creation.
Inspires chaos.
Forces constant renewal.
A virtuousity that gives life to this mind's insanity.

rendez-vous at nine
trust me, i am fine.

sweet summer days
i m here for the chase.

pink lipstick red
look at what i had.

shells and ocean waves
always in a race.

listening to blues
dancing till we lose.

sleeping on the sand
holding your cold hand.

setting blue pale fires
we burn the souls desires.

feeling good as freaks
learned all their tricks.

we travel in paper boats
loud fireworks.

beautiful colors of the night
i haven t lost my sight.

we live on this beach
feeling wild and rich.

I wonder if poetry is
a humble attempt to reduce
the magnificence or terror of dreams
to words.