Homebound, on the trail to new horizon.
Lost town, forgotten from where the trail was and where it began.
Like roses and cherry blossoms,
beauty isn’t forever.
I admire the concrete, the cement, the asphalt and rocks, at least they stay.
The songs I sing, lost their melody and beauty.
I head to concrete city
Where the hearts are exchanged for pennies and forgotten memories.
For once the leaf, the bird, and the frog..
aren’t things I admire.
I now find love and resonance in the solidness of structure,
And then maybe my heart won’t rupture.

I dipped my pen in ink,
Then later washed it off in the sink,
Papers everywhere,
But still no one's here.
I fall through myself
lightly as if slow motion
I desire promotion
though I need to be dipped
in the pacific ocean.
To freeze my furious heart
i'd need a million
maybe billion
liters of tears.
To let myself disappear.

There are too many things untold,
too many to let anything unfold,
it's trapped in it's own trap,
distracted by it's own call,
If I'd help
I'd rather do nothing at all
because my nothing is
always at my beck
and call.

Even as I lay asleep,
I find the darkness of mine,
stirring beneath,
the inky dark taking hold
and I find nothing,
nothing at all.

The walls of my heart are breaking, my mind's demons are playing on the edge. It feels as though madness is an old friend, a toxic one. I played with the rose's thorns and pricked my finger. My blood drowning my feelings and I turn to stone. Not the beautiful kind, the one with cracks and dirt, roots are controlling my place and I looked into the eye of despair. Twisting and turning to my last words;
"Au Contraire, mon fraire".

The walls of my heart are breaking, my mind's demons are playing on the edge. It feels as though madness is an old friend, a toxic one. I played with the rose's thorns and pricked my finger. My blood drowning my feelings and I turn to stone. Not the beautiful kind, the one with cracks and dirt, roots are controlling my place and I looked into the eye of despair. Twisting and turning to my last words;
"Au Contraire, mon fraire".

The streets of the city echoes with brutal history
The thundering clapping of hands signify a wonderful thing
If you walked this street with an open heart
you'd soon be harmed...
cut with scars...

The egomaniacs
The narcissists
and
the heartbroken

reside here...
beware..
you're already there...