Drowned world
in a miasma of plastic.
I turn to love
is not just a flash
in the pan. I am moody walls
and stone borders,
eyes on the horizon,
the quickening ****** sunset.
I try to believe in some heaven
that I am here.
I should pay more attention.
I should bloom like a flower
underneath your sun,
rewarding you
with an infinite unfurling of petals.
The night need not crush.
It may reveal its stars.
The child brides’ shrieks
do not always
denote pain.

scanning from my perch
staring out the window pane

imaging my path, a quiet place
visioned the trail
i have followed in vain

i to the right
as the herd left

did i hold back
or stand in judgement
above the rest

still hunting a clue
while guarding the line

what is there that i might find

survey from my grave
peering out the window pane

could i have seen
beat, circumspect

the window a mirror
and i my reflect

What if stars were
Giants so large we couldn't see them walking
And voices so loud we can't even hear them talking
Beings so high we only see them spin
Yet we only find the truth within
Breathing in the spectrum while waves pulsate in tempo
To the patterns heaven plays with the weather and its reflection
I could contemplate the motion of the sky
But it wouldn't take the ache away that wakes the soul inside
A moment in desire will wake the egos fire
And the way this system was designed if we temper we’ll burn higher
I try to Stay away from gains that make us consumed by currency
Because it only makes everything feel like a sudden sense of urgency
May a Blade be sharpened by the still and patient warrior
Complacent expectations makes the act laborious
So practice makes perfect, its been said a thousand times
Yet somehow we only remember after opportunities arise
You can say you know
Have you felt it in your bones?
That pure electric feeling coming from experience alone
Step back and observe the trails walked before you
Maybe the path you seek has already been laid out for you
Or maybe it was never there, no steps to see no sea to fare
Perhaps your destiny is to create it and bear the duty to share

Anacondas and vipers
are the serious biters.
Cobras and mambas
can create deadly dramas.
Garden snakes and kingsnakes
tooth marks still ache.
Be cautious
or else you'll end up being nauseous.

The sour of the metal spoon
clings to the roof of my mouth.
My eyes water, lips pucker,
as my hands tremble underneath
the low light of the humid room.

The movement of time grates on
my frozen nerves, thrumming
within heated flesh. Death sits across
from where I am, as I feast upon the
offering that life gives.

The food is cold. It is ash in my mouth.
For I have stuck to the same food for so long, I have found, I am not content
with the serving I have chosen. But Death waits patiently, in his alcove
of mystery.

It is time, and I know.

I dine with death, with spoon and fork in hand, and this is the food I have chosen.

This is the life I have lived. My choice that I ponder, and we concede. It doesn't matter what food we eat, with what we eat, and how we eat it. But by the end, I know.

I have chosen something terrible, and Death will hold me by the hand alone, as we leave, side by side, to the door outside.

Here, I face towards the indiscriminate darkness, and before I say I am nothing, I say, "I am one".