They say I am high off life,
But I never seem to levitate,
I don’t do drugs still,
Instead I meditate…..

Then I put this
pen to this paper
And I gravitate,
No rehab for me
this lyrical therapy
seems to medicate…

I am a prisoner
of words
done said,
debtor
to the those
urging
deep in my head,
brilliant light
that turns us
into circling moths
and it grips
like the lines
that forms the dots
for those
a blurred
dream
coming into being
like a meme,
ever present
like the shadows
waiting to be one
beyond the dark,
unseen like
the underground movement
the arteries felt
the choke of the smoke
more work for my heart,
there is method to my madness
otherwise, this wouldn’t be an art

They say
I am a man of few words
I shouldn't be a poet
But, I have to remind them
Its not how many words you used
Its about using as few words as you can,
And still saying a lot more.

from open skies to blooming flowers,
through my darkest hours,
through pain and persistence,
to my lack of vision,
tossing and turning,
something four walls couldn't confide,
till my veins collide,
from fingers through her hair,
to my "I just don't care"
if words could lie,
my failure to comply
my actions speak louder,
but through these pages I found her,
my stare into nothingness,
but I settled for nothing less,
than an ocean of words,
mend wings for these birds,
more than a speck in the sky,
the tears that never saw the cry,
fears that never saw the light,
but the light walked me through the night,
more than a pen that I am holding,
dear moleskin...

I set fire to the rain
split the veins of the grain
if you doubt, i will do it again
and all for the sake of pain

There are dreams
And there are dreams,
That fuel the passion,
The rest all are nightmares.

The tears have melted
And returned to the streams
And streams into falls