every day, he looked out the window,
his inhibitions toppling over like dominos;
he gawked at the blackbirds, all the same:
he could not tell a friend from a foe.

he never thought he’d go so far -
as to slay ‘the raven’ with a crooked crowbar;
his conscience dripped with sins, and rose -
a thorny heap of fallacies, charred.

he blamed the world for all he was;
convinced in his soul that he had a good cause:
it wasn’t enough to redeem his faux pas, so -
he bore the tag of an ill-fated outlaw.

of all the names, by which he was called,
who knew - one day - he’d cease to show up?
a child dead of his innocence, who
never learned how to -
as they say -

‘grow up!’

Sunrise and tide were getting brights,
He was heading somewhere,
She didn't even know as well,
Accidentally stopping on the shore,
Hoping she didn't mind, and more.
Tipsified by that kind of exhilaration,
Seeming steady to erase their philophobia,
They opened up their hearts full of passion.
Expecting to be forever on the same shell,
To live their shared dreams full of lights,
Letting the waves sing them where to go...