Ideas so vivid
of skin that's not timid
Be intimate
Just integrate
Your poetry
into me
and make me see
make me see
All the colors
that I yearn to be
you and me and ecstasy
til it all falls away from me
I sense a feeling of being free
free from empty words
keeping it though it hurts
in a puddle deep inside
where all my silly wishes hide
come to me
come for me
I'll let us be
poetry

I have returned
To the land of the living
After all life have perished
To see all traces of existence
Time and space, gravity and love
Without the restriction of our limited vision
To see the imprints of our touch and impressions
Laid out in front of me in its infinite and eternal presence
Every interaction, attraction, mutual and unrequited
Left its mark, like the trails of a snail
Now visible to me in perfect clarity

I could have ran to the beginning
And walked through every moment to the end
Seen life for what it truly was for all creations

Yet, all I wanted
Coming back at the end of time
When time cease to exist
When every being, every moment
Will never again cease to exist or change
Was to find that thread
Between us
And see whether it was connected
At the very moment of sight
When I saw you for the very first time
And ever since
Tugged and pulled
At every hint of longing
Transforming me with sculpting pain and tears
And tore away my fears

And see that it was never just my hopeful Imaginations and creations of the mind
That the threads of every twinge
Every pull of my soul
Had been there
Always there
Still there
True and real
Between every you and me

Can someone please stop me from pouring,
out, and out
I'm afraid I might be emptied soon from crying out,
loud, so loud

Please let me find some peace of mind,
self, myself
Let me put this thing off, put it on the furthest,
shelf, rusted shelf

I'm so tired, so worn out,
letting, always letting
My veins are bruised from all of it,
fretting, all the fretting

Aren't you fed yet?
from the blood, so much blood
It starts to become one with
the mud, grey thick mud

I'm fed up with your decency,
irony, oh the irony
Full and fat of life's endless travesty
tragedy, it's a tragedy

Let me out of lying honesty,
don't talk to me, don't talk
I'm sick and tired of this car,
I rather walk, I will walk

I'll get somewhere eventually,
probably, mh, surely
Or maybe I'll get hit by one again on my way there,
pleasant thought, purely

Her lips wrote
Vuernability
All over the walls
Shook down all
The Apples
And let them fall
Picked them up
One by one
Tasted them
Remembered each lesson
Straight down to the core

She ran on empty
far too long
She kneeled
At the alter of creativity
And began to write

whilst the plants during winter wait
they wait for warmth and springtime rain
whilst they do so,
the ground welcomes the quiet snow:
if they, so I.
the snow embraces the ground and trees
singing soft and enamoring melodies
the trees do not fret or cry spitefully,
but instead appreciate the cold beauty:
if they, so I.
there is pain in the wait, but joy as well
a chest for two reasons could easily swell
with anger or laughter and it is a choice,
we the tuners the tone of our voice:
if they, so I.
what does that mean?
why love the snow that hides summer's green?
why must we wait to enjoy the sun?
so I say, the flowers still bloom when their time come:
if they, so I.