brush my lips with more reds
make my smile look alive
let the youth touch my hand
allow the colors to dry

bury my casket along with my sins
and the poems i can never sing
get the black book and the priest
let the funeral of an art begin

brew the finest lies you got
the vengeance of the word
a ghost will haunt your dreams
a ghost that bears your name

the sick truth of a man
sought refuge to a face
a better death; to be betrayed
than drown in yellow paint

I really want to see
If you reached out to me
Like you promised
And possible revel
in the silly long
Banter of our old voices.
It seems a lifetime
turns to a month
That you got older
Becoming more preoccupied.
But I don't want to let myself See
Because another let down
Would leave me lonely.

People compliment me
for dressing up nice...









Little did they know,
I show up nice to hide the PAIN and SCARS within me...

Imagine;
The canvas is the root of the planted dilemma.

Paint the truth with daffodils
Paint reality with roses

Exhibit your piece
Like you still have your sanity

Do not worry, your little writings behind the canvas is safe with us.