When you were little,
we wandered the sunlit shore—
your laughter a bright echo
mingling with the rush of waves.
I watched as the sea snatched your red ball,
a tiny planet swallowed by surging tides,
whispering, “Hold fast to hope;
the tide always returns.”

That battered sphere, salt-bleached at dawn,
washed ashore like a small miracle,
a promise that even loss
might be reclaimed from the deep.

But the sea, vast and unyielding,
claimed more than a toy—it claimed you.
Now your towel stripes the dunes,
your slippers lie silent,
and those oversized shades, once crowning your smile,
are but faded relics of innocence lost.

Men in boats cast their nets
through dark braids of kelp,
hauling up relics—a bottle cap,
a stray shoe—
fragile tokens from an endless blue
that keeps you hidden away.

Here I stand upon this lonely shore,
my heart heavy as the crashing surf,
knowing all too well you are gone.
Yet I strain to catch the tide’s murmur,
hoping against hope
for that final, silent deliverance—
for your body to return,
so I might hold you once more
between loss and love.

The horizon hangs an empty ledger,
the tide’s cold arithmetic clear:
what it steals, it subtracts;
what it owes, it forgets.
And in that barren sum,
I remain to cling to a hope too fragile,
to let go.

A villain I made you out to be
But the truth is what I failed to see
Rather hear 'cause repeatedly you didn't fail to say
But I guess I didn't want to see it that way

I played a part in your unjust blame,
Now remorse holds me, drowning me in shame
A human you are—not demon nor saint,
Not a battle to win, so I yield in restraint

Open my eyes, I shall finally do
I'm tired of lies that I disguised as you
I can silence my cries and let go of you
Finally my eyes are open, now I can say goodbye to you

Sometimes I feel like an alien,
Flying in my little spaceship,
Searching for a place to call my home,
Somewhere to call my own.
I must be from another planet.
What’s normal here,
Isn’t normal to me,
It fills me with fear,
That abnormality,
Isn’t so strange anymore,
How horrid.

Spite and strife,
Common friends,
Together until the end.
Such cruelty,
The normality,
Of hate and evil glee,
At the sacrifice of someone’s purity.

I know humor is subjective,
But I think objectively,
Some things are just not funny,
And shouldn’t have jokes made to laugh at.
Is that so revolutionary?

Does it ever seem to you,
That people are becoming crueler?
Is it just me?
I hope I’m wrong.
Video after video,
Of people whining and complaining,
And screaming at the waiter,
Cause they didn’t get,
The correct,
Amount of the condiment they ordered.
Fights in the streets,
Over petty disagreements.
Road rage at an all-time high,
Why?
People make mistakes,
They do it all the time,
**** it up,
Grow up,
And move on with your life!

I wonder,
What planet I came from,
Cause it sure wasn’t here.
That could be,
The reason,
Why I feel no one gets me,
We are two different species….


Society just loves to complain,
About how things aren’t that great,
But instead of changing anything,
They’ll just complain.
Always putting someone down,
To push them up,
The cowards!
Always easier to hurt another,
When you can’t look in their eyes.
Type your hatred down,
Send it in an instant,
Can’t take it back,
Don’t feel regret now.

I question,
My origin,
Because I refuse to believe,
That I am,
A part,
Of whatever we try to be…

I’ll put a drop in the bucket,
In the hope that,
Kindness will overflow,
And overthrow,
The darkness,
One day…

Sometimes I feel like an alien,
Looking for a home,
Somewhere to call my own…

If you have come to seek
Only consent & acceptance,
You will be poorly received
And denied at the entrance.
You come only to take
What you think you are entitled to,
As though it were not valuable
And as if it were freely offered.
In what you ask
There is no promise of reciprocation,
No hint that you will be grateful.
In your hunger for it,
The only guarantee
Is that you will want more.
You share no contentment,
No happy acts or jovial gestures.
The best thing for all of us
Is to deny you of our goodwill,
Perhaps it will cause you
To grow up
And be more mature.
If not,
It will at least mean the stability & security
Of our happiness & freedom.

Was water my lover?
And due another question
Of mercy and its lover, so your...
A choice made; a house of blessings?

A church that ****** my brains out
Named clergy's epistle
A wish I followed till kingdom's come's pout
I fear you like a smile in the world...

Awkward promises
To begin an ending that thought more
Than the race of love, before it loses
A handsomer prayer, for a devil called forth...?

Shame, we run like your future
Silver tongues, golden lungs
Longing for tomorrow, like a few was certain...
To wish again; who is mere and who is strong?

This kiss cost me, a mercy's shadow
Simple risk's and rises of sincerity, found
With a second prayer, of wind and rain to owe
That asked, is it all right to admit allowed?

Tales of presumption, a city of angel's
Quiet was my need, like a chat to lead
The service of an ideal, that keeps you well...
Acts, deed and time, to look far ahead

The sound you swim with...
Poise, can a fish remember your hands?
Or the feet of austere powers, that meant...
A look of life, to and with the might of lands

Swallow our pride?
Thus said the fury of anger:
Liberty is a long run with a heart full of shied...
That a season has its own for a care to wonder

By and asked the spirit of me...
In the mind of mercy
Is a wisdom to know, sharing is energy
With the time to say, is love waiting on history?

Thank you, for a prayer
I stir in the hands of another
I take for worth, and the beauty of care
Which when asked, why is God a timidity to bother?

A man shouting at the distant sky:
ridicule the futility of such an act.
Witness untethered anger,
for a cloud begins to pass through.

Hear weeping as the cloud departs,
its loss unnoticed by the sky.
Confused at the insanity displayed,
ignorant to the rhythm of nature.

Mock the one who mocks,
blind to the drifting sky within.
Shed tears for his scattered echoes of frustration,
caught in his own storm, yet unaware of the calm.

Mumbling a prayer,
a man may save his fleeting breath.
Blind to the rhythm nature weaves,
one day, your voice will ride the breeze.

geese outside
call the hour
a breath