Most of those poem are written at 4 AM
That's where all the unravished silences belong
When the paper and promises are both meant to burn
Flowing tears of written hopes and woes
As a butterfly’s fluttering coax the flows
Later, past the rapids, I paused to consider
Widening and filling
With a gentle lapping of inlets
And I behold once more
Quietly
There goes-
Again'

My battle with time

Most of those poem are written at 4 AM
It's when I dwell in my creations
My long lost world
In the dim weald of vanished summer
To meet the despair

I laughed in grief under haunted skies
Desolate I strayed
In my clumsy-noisy mind
Watching the dying embers
Amid the freezing night
My angry-tears are gone'
And I behold once more
Quietly
There goes-
Again'

My battle with time

I mourn over reasons
They will never figure out
They doesn't even know what I'm smiling about
My words burns within my lungs
These thoughts are deadly
And with each broken words
Shaking legs
Empty rhythms
I danced'

Most of those poem are written at 4 AM
It's when I take a sip from my devil's cup
It's when I learn to wait for the loneliest of feasts
Of worlds whereto this earth’s a hurled dream

And nothing leads to no happy home
So let me-
So let me mourn alone
Let my heart freezze
I'm an ancient ocean
I could survive anything
And everything
So I behold once more
Raw and raging
There goes-
I'm beyond'

I'm beyond time