In the creeping halt of cars
When the signal turned red
I saw him on the pavement
There he was that sleeping man
In the blistering heat, On the Bed of stones
I came across him as accidentally as one
stubs a toe on the edge of a table
-and as painfully too-
I wondered who he was, What he had been and
what he had become
Did he have a family? Someone to wake up for?
I also wondered how easily I could pity him;
And not extend the same sympathy to my own self
  But of course the only answer he graced me with
Was his raspy snore, Breathing in and out, in and out
So peaceful. So raw. So oblivious.
I wished him sweet dreams.
The signal turned green and the world was awake and moving again

Into the wonderment of your autumnal mind.
Where the skin of your grief sheds its leaves.
Is the song of your sea bound into colourful light?
The Shepherd breaches the flock of your dreams,
And the pastures breathe a sigh of relief,
As your tears of morning dew
Glisten the parched landscape.
Does your bouquet of *****
Lay wistfully in the wilderness?
The skies of blue that reside in your eyes
Serenades the coming of the tide,
Harvesting the fruit of our labour of love.
Is this a wind of smile that turns into a voyage of valiancy?
A flock of thoughts liberated with a cry of exclamation
As your fears of autumn blue
Are exiled into the rapacious wind.

Should you know everything from start to end
Would you change a thing?

I would rather not.
Not even Choose to know
That where to reach
So there to go
Whom to meet
Whether say yes or no

I just don't even wish to know
That where to search
And what to find
That what will hurt
And who ll be kind

Isn't that what we do
build that wall Of certainity
Wall of our dreams
Of that promised secured  future
Organising everything random
Offered by the universe
So that
Not even for a moment we go off track
Into the unknown
So that none ventures in and surprise you

Changing things so that
We don't have to change it later

And then what
Lay staring
Nothing but those walls
Your walls
Made of those work-hours
Decisions, regrets , memories
Walls so high and strong
Now you can't see beyond em
Let alone walk past it

I won't mind losing
For my mistakes
The pain, the chill, the burn
Heartbreaks under scorching sun
Let me be swept by cold winds of doubts
Drenched in the rain from clouds of fear
Not under the safe concrete of wealth
Unseasoned and a mortal mere

I would rather choose
To be lost
As I am
As are most
And won't even try to find my way
No quest to solve
Nothing to resolve

Just you and me
Walking all the roads
Stopping where we feel
And staring at the sky
Counting stars as if we can
Everyday afresh and start anew
You with me and I with you
And
You love me and I love you

Sitting under galaxies
Me
Holding my sadness

Shrieking under shooting stars
Me
Breaking my sadness

Singing for longer time
Me
Begging for justice

Hanging above this universe
Me
Groaning for sign

Who hails this pain?
I'm living in vain
Who notice the unfairs?
I'm turning to flares
Come to fail
Walk to ****
This world is just unfair

I forget the need for physical contact
Then it comes
Like a rain
d
  r
    o
      p
On my cheek, after a long, dry summer in the desert
And then the thirst,
the thristthristthristthrist
For the other
thristthristthristthrist
To be wanted, wanted, loved and loved
thristthristthristthrist
To be part of the world like all the others
To be part of the cycle of life
Around which I only turn around,
Trying to find my way
*in

"I believe in you." Words that water flowers.  
-Faudet, M.


I'm not saying
that it will unwilt all the sadness away
That by just saying those words
would magically lift a person to bloom exceedingly
I'm saying
it might at least not **** the very tiny, little hope,
motivation,
reason to live
she has in her heart
I'm saying
at least she won't die

And some day,
when the sun seems a lot brighter
She is gonna thank you for that

-A wilting flower

Death and i converse in the midst
of 3:00am's darkness: the witching hour,
when the veil between this world
and the Abyss grows thinnest.

the Endless approach, swift as quicksand
in an hourglass, silent as a shade
on a moonless eve. they whisper
in tongues mortals cannot speak.

Insomnia's embrace is cold as hoarfrost,
a lost soul looking over my shoulder.
Time wonders, "when you lie alone,
do you hope you don't wake up?"

Morpheus leaps
from the pages of the Sandman,
a phantom from my nightmares,
cloaked in flame and shadow.

"rest easy, friend,"
the King of Dreams
says to me.
"there would be no hell without Hope."