I find new troubles
At the bottom
Of an empty cup

The Thing about Logic is that it can be used to prove anything.

Words Of Harfouchism.

his oceans are calling me home,
the green grasses no longer it for me

a stranger in a land unknown,
the blue waters are where i was meant to be

My hand is home to all my dreams

She
refuses
To reside
Inside
anyone’s
Solace
Especially
her own
She’s a
rare rose
With
the thorns
Still attached
She walks
a fine line
Somewhere
Along the line
Between pain
And fine wine
She always
found the time
And
Courage
To shine