…Like saddened eyes
drenched deep
from the pains of yesterday
that shrouds a glimmering hope
whispered by tomorrow
Weak in the flesh
Undressed by regrets
Wandering endlessly
through thorns of dying roses
under vague black skies
of crying stars and bleeding moon
Alone in the night
in search of a warmth… to weep
Beneath the shadow of a cloak
Wading through dark waters of
uncertainties and despair
Struggling to survive
the splintering shivering cold
Blown by melancholic voices
that echoes within the void
of a withering heart
Desperately holding on
to desolated
breaths…

...Three days in the fire
and the screams
turn into whispers
before they become
numb
Distortions
in the middle of
parallel thoughts
defined the grays
in what was once
the voice of the sun
Judgment of a doubt is
the only truth
in a world of manipulated
right...
I am silenced
by the denial of others
and the world
is drunk
from streams of
blood
money...

…I have shown the world
a smile that reached through
thousands of miles
And it was
nothing but a
facade
Clashing moonlight of
endless thoughts
shedding blood of tears… raging
as I’ve fought into
forever distance
In my mind I
scream in anguish…
Plunging back to my depths
a familiar sorrow I
have
felt
Leaving again the realm of sanity
off I am
to wander through
madness…

A tormenting sun burned above the vultures that circled above his thoughts anticipating his fall. His lips were chapped. Dried blood is the proof. This must be hell...

...The subtle growl of the sky
had woken her and
sometimes...
most of the time
gray clouds are
the alternative
sunrise...

...The journey had taken a little longer than what he had thought. And the heat... the heat was becoming too heavy for a burden. If only his tears would quench his thirst...

...She never believed in
angels
or at least find a reason to
convince her
that each breath is
a miracle...

...He had always thought that sunsets were promises of a solemn night. But as he stood at the edge of a cliff, he knew that that sunset will bring him the coldest eternal night...

...That night though
nothing
seemed
different but
the cold was somewhat heavy
and she couldn't help but think...
God
must be sleeping
again...

...City lights
on a distance
reflect
a melancholic dance
of fireflies drifting
the streets
Black metallic cases walk
and nobody cares
Fragile as a glass
they talk about tomorrow as
black clouds embrace
their dreams and the flowers were
never tended
anymore
Emotions are
Were...
And one couldn't stop
to wish
In my heart I know
a single touch makes
a big difference
but reality is
nostalgia
is the calm in
the air...

...The sun was dull that morning and the colors of the landscape were washed away by the restless wind and scattered shadows. He knew that the valley is only for the dead. He hesitated to walk on...

...She had
always known that
dried leaves
never enjoyed
the ground
maybe she's wrong...

...The afternoon light bled like melancholic Sunday. He feared the rumbling or perhaps feared that he was not prepared. He had hoped for a flood...

...A dead tree stands
amidst everything
It told her
the remnants
of things
that were once here...

...Weary and heavy with the walk, the cold seeped into his flesh. Drying the bones. The shivers slowly choked the sanity in him and he wondered if tomorrow would be the same... Who knows?

...Perhaps it is sad
sad that we
do not know
But... does it really matter?
Perhaps someday
we will
know...

She wore a dress that reminded him of the blank spaces in a midnight sky. Her hair flowed playfully with each gentle blow of the wind. Time stopped when She took a hand...

...For a moment
he thought he heard a song
in the middle of the chaos
in his head
Bliss.....

...Seated on the ledge of a rock overhang that viewed the landscape of Man at the first sign of the sun, She bit her nails anxiously waiting for the next...

...He woke up
with the lingering
dream
it was love at first sight
and that song
that song was out
of tune. But....

...At dusk, she walked by the shore of what used to be white foam. Whispering a song as she played Her flute with the last remnants of sunlight...

...He had never felt
such contentment
before
and those tides
were... are
Tomorrow
till She whispered
"Not yet
...not yet"

...I am
thinking of something
Something I
have never thought of
before
Perhaps it is nothing
Maybe the sun will
still rise without even looking
at the thought and birds
will build their nests at
the first sight of spring
And maybe... just maybe
sunscreen
will bring us more fun
than staying under
the shade
Now tell me who
knows the truth behind
the words...

...They have been with us
for as long as time
could remember
Lingering in thoughts
in every dreams
Shattered no more
freed from the masquerades
of a system
dictating us all
Waking to a hand-choked
tomorrow
that will never
be ours
so I long
not to be like them
...yet
But to know the
things behind every truth
If the dead could only speak
or perhaps
if I could only hear
or listen to their voices
then maybe
just maybe
things will be
clearer...

...If only ink
never dries up
then every dream
will be written to
remind us to walk our path
If only whispers
scream
in times of a disturbed calm
then maybe
there will be a smile
filled
with laughter to spark
a new hope
If only silence never
burns cold after
a faded joy
perhaps tomorrow I
will think of the sun
and embrace
a new warmth
If only I
could speak with fate
to ask a few questions
then I
would not fear
closing both my eyes
in my sleep...

...I look at the stars
upon
a midnight's blue of a
purple blood
Seeking for something
that would clear my head
in this walk
back
home
Moonlight's dream
of a cool summer warmth
sends confusion
of a shivering
embrace
that cuts through
the sanity of my being
And I wonder
if this will ever
fade...