"I want to be a poet. That's the only thing I really want.
I want to find my own way of writing, my own style.
I know I haven't yet, but I am striving to do so.
How should I put it? It's very hard to explain.
I want to write in a way that they writing is me- is myself. I want to write so that what I write and the way I write is me, because of the choice of words and the arrangement of the words, the way I combine them, group them together, orchestrate them. For me words are music as well as- as much as- they are meanings.
Writing is different from talk."
This is All
Growing up I never liked the nights, As a child it signified the end of play with the rule that you had to be indoors at dawn.
I remember the evil ticking sound of the tremulous hands of time as we were separated from our friends,
with the sun wrapping up in the fragrant petals of the freezing cold nights.
A spirit locked inside a world of silence and pure nothingness.
The hot fire sparks assaulting my fragile skin of the hands over the fire at the compulsory fireplace,It's streaks of sorrow still trace their way into my soul.
Until the day [God knows when] I saw the beauty of colors blending together, forming a magical hue through (You guessed it.)
a cheap camera lens.
Sunset is twice as beautiful through a camera lens.
Now more than ever I go sit at my betch, snap the beautiful sunsets, and caption them with a nervous pulse knowing it’ll soon end. Only fair since nothing lasts forever.
Darkness closes in, the fun begins. I reach for your hand.
"Come with me into darkness."
He found her standing before
the large Ocean staring unseeing at
its mysterious frozen surface. She was
shivering. He watched her
doubtfully for a moment.
"The Ocean is too cold and too big."
The Goddess thought out loud.
In reality, The sky was too: cold and too big.
was: too cold, too big. And even too
he said to her back, where’s
He moved to stand beside
her hourglass figure. 'I’m warm.'
She tilted her head to his.
you’re warm and I’m coatless,
there’s only one friendly thing
for you to do.'
'Go back and get your coat for
She smiled. Reaching out to
him, he pulled her close
against him. Being a gentleman he wrapped
his arms around her,
surprised, and tried to rub
some warmth into her
shivering shoulders and back.
'That’s it exactly,' Goddess said.
'You must keep me warm.' As a gesture to never let her go,
He laughed and held her
tighter with one hand, while drawing a sword at the rest of the world.
Special poem inspired by an anonymous muse.
Are you going to do something or are you just going to stand there and bleed like the world owes you anything?
Writing is an escape, I write to hide blood.
the waves come a crashing, I stand so firm,detached from everything.
Only the algae that's grows around me has any connections to this soul.
I'm safe here. I love my solitude.
If it bleeds it leads. .
Sometimes we think they'll come back... But they should have never left...