A seed is buried in the manhole
pebbles of time to chuck at the glass screen of life;
the genuine stone in your hand- consistent is its determination
Dreams lost in the dusty drawer
a mind’s past tortures, alongside the crawling pieces
of blood clot envy under my skin- towards a love so in vain
These are the ancient wounds
jumping into conclusions; through the escaping hurdles
In place of the ghouls, the faces that flow through feeding corpses

Night falls, into a dreamer’s eyes
unlocking a world full of possibilities- insignificant fingers
trying to count up optimism misplaced in the gory wings of lips  
Fly away from your comments
comets fall in a beautiful destruction, to perish dry and blow
out the picture of a star- drinking wine at a sunrise; drunk on life

More so, more or less when
the consistent soil grows us bread to feed buttered-up charms
as lovers spread out their love to the distaste of a jealous bunch
Don’t open, that love jar
letting out that sickening hint of spark- once you open that door
it will close you in defeat; from head to sole jumping in heartache’s
repeat…