To write poetry
you need to be born
You need to grow
consuming the energy of the sun
and the nourishment of
love

Years of change
hundreds of days
of pain, love,
sorrow, growth and
loss

A universe needs
to be born
out of the unknown darkness
before time ticked

Just so that we can write
a few elegant lines
a prose of our time
drifting, riding, on
Earth's dancing
orbit

Trapped in solitude
the noiseless screams of torture
dream devouring creature
of the black sea

I constructed a raft,
from timbers of fallen
ambitions, crossed the ocean,
cursing the climates that
engulf my body as I drift
away

Alone on the
pulsing membrane of earth's
diaphragm, I gaze upon
the mystical twilight

Pull out a piece of tattered paper,
crumpled and wet,
saved from my great escape
and write not
to dream, but write to live

discover the truths that
are hidden within my own head
until I reach land, full
of sharp teeth, and shrieking
masses

I'll befriend the rats
and the worms in the ground
the life we deemed below ours
for they treat me as an equal
one with the honest
one with myself

The rain fell not from the sky
or from dark anvil clouds
It fell from within myself
Flash of lightning
Night becomes bright
for a split second
trees can be seen swaying
in the
dark
Wind gust in every hollow opening
found within my heart
the rain came
and washed everything
with a
beat
of a steady
hand
drumming to beats
as thunder
crashed
the voice from the sky
dark piano
trembling keys
in low pitched notes
dark harmonies
I loved you for your
beauty
but not
for your soulless dreams
the rain came suddenly
and
flooded the roads
lost in a river of cold water
forever
remote

I find the truth
Causes suffering
And
We exist
Within as many
Lies
As it takes to
Barricade
Ourselves from
The heartache
of truths