How we string together
     what binds us
     to ourselves

When did we become
     masters? This
     redundant throne

We buy into glory for
     our satsfaction
     then leave

for another slides into
      the seat of our mind.

are not music
or poems
but the breadth
and depth

for the life
of me, they mingle
and linger
on a lonely rooftop

with rain
vibrating through
the wind.

.                                 i am missing
                                  you so much it hurts,


                                 i am ill-
                                 treated and need strength,


                                 i am afraid,
                                 unsure of what to do.


                                you're imagining things,
                                 you said.

Falling flowers
tiptoe into fire,

quelled by rain.

i see that
smile
but separate from my lips

i see those
tears
but not of my eyes

and that
sweat
from brows

not mine
but the voices
pretending to be me

i am perturbed of
the two voices
in my head
so sure of themselves
of where i should go

i tried one way
thought i could
have what i want
resulted in how
the other said i'd be

i went the other way
unable to go fully
and i could not
identify myself
apart from them

Left from center,
outside right,
fringes and gaunt.

The night was mine
alone just as everyone
in doubt and need.

Lingering inside
the day waits for no one
but the fortunate.

Ahead of me,
tentative fingers
seep through.

They tunnel between
dissolving ink,
dispersing the abysmal

trenches of waiting
tides....

I do not see
beyond the might,
yet perceive
more than ought.
The craving of
a learned tale,
ability to carve out
an excuse to crave.

Hail to the conquerors!
Teller of greatness,
earner of sympathy,
foreteller of justice,
bearer of magnanimity.
We survive you.

Hail to the losers!
The day waits for you,
the night delights, passing
thoughts escape into
imagining immaterial
basis of deeds.

Soon, the distance between
falls near and
neither escapes surety.