There is a six sided utopia’s that exist within everyone
You may not know it but it has been with you since the beginning
Such a wonderful place free of worry and conflict is gone
In there, no one is above you, only you are reigning

What is wrong and right is dictated by the person residing
Your consciousness is the only thing that exist, the proof that you are living
Not even your shadow found, the place is full of nothing
The loneliness you feel in here isn’t a curse but a blessing

A place without a trace of happiness there will never be a trace of misery
A place without anyone to love is a place without a vestige of fury
Here there is no companionship but solitude it is graciously giving
Without anyone to leave there is no sadness in parting

Within yourself you can learn to find joy and happiness
But you shall never find it when loved ones leave, only bitterness
The world within the six walls is a much better place
For in here there is no one to judge you no matter the ability, personality, face and race

Reality is full of cruelty, sin, deceit, death, pain and strife
This is an unbeatable game, the game we call life
No one can be blamed when people give up playing
This is such a harsh reality, I’m just saying

In this three dimensional utopia solace is what people seek
All types of people from fierce, cold, serious and meek
They come to ease the pain, cease the grieving and put sorrow to an end
They come to forget regrets and think that their mistakes never happened

This six sided heaven is found within our minds
In here only freedom reigns, no laws that binds
When all is ruined and gone, when the battle has been lost
We retreat to our boxes, our fates to destiny we entrust

I'm sorry
If I woke you up last night
My pen told me secrets in whispers
And I carved scars and tales
Of silly incantations and
old fallen trees
Of silver days in summer breeze
and tattered amber sundresses
Of apple bites and ripe grapes
near the broken glass on the carpet; they decayed
Ashes danced on my lips; sculpting poems on my skin
and flicking cigarette on my wounds
Smudged mascara and dulcet memories
Leather fabricated journals of vintage times
hiding crisp carcasses of yellow daises
Euphonious chortles and
early morning smiles
Forgotten tea leaves in the teapot
and ginger bread turning cold
Sun rays, like gold dust, sparkling in the air
Through the tall trees of a forest
hanging on the clouds in despair
First day of Spring, magical it is
like a caterpillar's fate
Silky cocoon, shiny chrysalis,
emerging out as a butterfly
Leaving as old and embracing the new
Igniting the sky over my purple roof

and time suffocates me, whisks past my face fills my nostrils and mouth with pearls of despair fill me as if sliding into place, a destiny slept-on, overwhelms me with its frothy rush like a cup someone overturned in the bath.

Today occurred a misfortune, the golden castle was filled with lament.
Two thieves broke in with hidden faces as the damsel peacefully slept.
It was a color perfect dawn as they slipped through her room
and an ordinary day turned to horror with eyes full of gloom.

Unsuspectingly, the bodyguard walked in and was attacked from behind.
While the thieves maliciously laughed, he asked where the damsel was, all terrified.
A broken voice replied in the distance and he was consumed with anger
when he heard the damsel weep in fear and despair.

Somewhere in a table two thieves are drinking
and celebrating another day of victory,
regardless of having harmed
the damsel of my heart.

A river of misery spreads out in a color perfect dawn
that instantly turns into a gloomy morn.

It’s good, but not what we’re looking for right now.
Oh, but it stings. And how!
The position’s closed, better luck next time
Your lips are bruised purple from that smile.

We loved it, but it doesn’t fit with our current line-up
You take a bitter sip of the salty tea-cup.
It’s good, dear, just not for me
You nod, you understand, ‘cause it ever is.

Your throat stings from not screaming loud enough,
Frustration the itch of a swallowed cough.
You’ve heard it a hundred times, and yet the hundred-and-first
Burns like every regret thrice reimbursed.

But while they wound, they aren’t nearly as bad,
As the radio silence of indifference ironclad.
Refreshed inboxes and double-checked call logs tell
The sordid tale of a dream drowning in the wishing well.

Vacancies disappear and resumes languish
Receptionists pout in parodied anguish.
It’s never you, it’s always them,
It’s never you’re-not-good-enough, it’s always not-the-right-fit.

It’s all the same, yet unique every time
Nobody’s got a minute, but asking’s not a crime.
It’s self-flagellation with a calling card
We don’t give a fuck, best regards.

Your name’s not on this list, or the next one
And yet you walk, ‘cause you can’t outrun
The ghost of a dream, of a hope long gone
Of finding the happily-ever-after in life’s lexicon.

during the old times—
hallways, filled with blithe laughter
voices lit the room

now—silence remains
my heart trembles with despair
the days pass slowly

footsteps in the night
through dank, lonesome passageways
echo in my mind

each step—emptiness
fading into the distance
every time I pause

stopping still, I gaze
peering out the aged window
I sharply retreat

moonbeams pierce my soul—
a reminder of what was
igniting the past

airing memories—
harshly illuminating
the forgotten ones