cinders.
the cinders glare at me
they want to be free
from the errors
i'm about to indulge in
and preen
of
how the cinders could not
stop the heart- it did rot;
after all, love
is watery,
it can never command my sobriety


ashes.
the cinders long to
turn into ashes before i'm through
the mess
i am to find myself in
and preen
of
how i found substitute,
for ashes did not refute
that love
is slippery-
it will slip, eventually

tears dried, before you
could leave behind
our rendezvous;
but the touch stay(s),
how could it
ever fray
when you kissed me
quite insane, cut
me free
from the shackles of
this suffocating world?
had enough
of this city growl:
off i go,
my soul
and me; help me
search who i
can be;
I belong in quainter
end-of-worlds;
Darling, you're
and art in yourself,
an artistic brilliance;
please help?