my fingers
talk to the
skin on your back
and your spine
says the wildest things
ive ever heard

Imagination
when your inner soul leaks thoughts and colours
on a wide blank canvas called earth
Imagination
where the very border  of nonsense and reality is blurred
until you can't tell what's real or not
Imagination
when you have no limits on what you can do or believe

My hands, they quiver
My voice, it shakes
My heart, its pounding
My head, it aches
My friends, they're dead
My enemies, in power
My life, its passing
My death, next hour

Flowers, we both cried,
Because tears were not enough,
Petals cup the rain.

I want to write a masterpiece,
that puts my ego and drive to peace,
I want to make something that gets the masses to stammer and quake,
feeling oot the true humanity and delivering nothing fake,
something to make them feel love and heartache,
to give them a rise,
by building them up with beautiful lies,
and tearing them down at their peak,
making their own head and heart something deep inside,
they have to seek,
but brick by brick I'll build them back up to my side,
they will feel consciousness spread across the great divide,
when I do this master work,
I'll give them each a piece of my soul to lend,
and then the poem will end.

Wasting away counting stars
For a love who is long gone