I’m stuck between impatience and time moving too fast.
If only certain moments could hold off and last,
Yet let me be the first to set the record straight.
I know that, in the end, it will all be worth the wait.
I’m not here because I want to relive the past.
While times have been perfect, the idea is too vast:
To stay where you are, red, and not look for what’s ahead.
However, why is the future an idea i’m urged to dread?
While this time is exciting, and often inviting,
I see the circumstance filled with crying and spiting.
No, I’m not scared, or maybe I was.
I’ve learned that I can’t live that way, only because
I’ll suffer that way in this current time I’m in,
And living right now is already hard enough to begin.
I’m not here to sulk, i’m not here to brag.
I’m just impatiently enduring the drag
Of time, of now, wanting it to slow to yellow,
While I’m eager, insisting on life’s green light, “go.”
Time, a constant thing, still looks me in the face
To say, “you think you know it all, but I will set the pace”.
No matter the task, the toll, the race, I’m in it for the ride.
Meanwhile, I’ll tell my impatient indecisiveness that it’ll have to subside.
Maybe time is like traffic. “Do I gas it, or hit the breaks?”
Either way, I’m afraid of collisions, so that’s a risk I just won’t take.

I dreamed you again
I just landed, I had wings
I asked you how you been
You just said nothing.
My dreams always give me some 6th sense
So I tried to change the verb tense  
How are you I asked ?
He looked so perplexed.
I realized the point that I missed.
So in that dream I went down on my knees
Pulled you down with me
And asked again what do you want to be?
But you started crying something I’ve  barely seen before
Collapsed on my dream’s cloudy floor
And showed me a star on your shoulder telling me it’s sore.
I touched it waiting for it to heal
And a thousand more started to appear
I asked him what have you done
He said it’s a dream every hope can be given or gone.

the tune had been haunting
london for weeks past,
but when the lights went out,
they went out fast.

none of us thought
those days would end.
the music would always be there
anytime we needed a friend.

the sweetness of the soprano;
sprinkled over a sultry saxophone;
the steady heartbeat of an upright bass;
titillating trumpets tooting a tune.

the raven-haired lady: the envy of the room;
the men could only dream
of being so lucky.
the ladies could only scream,
hoping to catch the tall dark stranger's eye.
at the end of the night,
we all sang a whiskey lullaby.

but the wind blew cold-
it made us shiver.
the band packed up their magic.
the soprano ran off with the tall dark stranger.
all alone and without home,
the raven-haired lady blew her mind out,
nowhere left to roam.

nights became weeks and weeks became months.
our throats were perpetually plugged with lumps.
it's hard to say how meaningful it can be-
the touch something can have,
no matter how seemingly arbitrary-
until it is gone with the wind.

I’ve travelled to places where darkness lives ,
Places where sunrise has never been witnessed,
Navigating dark corners of navy blue mazes,
Night skies colour the ground with unfiltered darkness,
Rocky paths lined with slivers of moonlight,
But somewhere underneath the starless sky,
Is a city scape that lights the places where the sun doesn’t rise,
When the people smile together and unleash their joy,
The stars start to glimmer like simple reflections,
And slowly the sun starts to rise once again.