do you think
wallpaper wants to talk
to the people in the room?

don't you think there's wisdom
in wallpaper?
how it absorbs the stories and
the spinning revolving door
of people who come and go

Some surrounded, some are hounded,
And some corners - simply rounded.
Some lessons are never learned,
Face feels slightly burned.

What’s the most ideal place to be? 

And where in life should people flee?
Where’s home and what we strive for? 

And what worth fighting for? 



Too many questions and fewer answers.
No queens, no kings, no lancerns.
We see ourselves, we pity our actions,
Sometimes drown in our own affections.

Be strong they say. Be strong and patient.
I’m young but feel so ancient.
Who can I rely on and who is on prowl?
It’s a full moon. It’s time to howl.

A life - just one big foolish dream.
You can stay silent or you can scream.
Red substance will put you to sleep,
Are you a wolf or just a sheep?



The words sometimes are a little blurry,
Do I need to worry? 

Where should I go and where is home? 

Where is my bed and where do I belong?

I hear your
voice, whispering
softly in the
night, telling
me you love me.
I feel the far off
safety and
warmth
of your arms around
me
I breathe
in your smell,
clean and fresh,
screaming of you.
But then I
wake and
realize
it was only a dream,
and I'm left
with nothing
but my
thoughts

I spied the eyes of god today
resting thoughtless on my mind.
Cast curiously on my mirror.
Leaving all the woes far behind.

I sat and pondered with ash-filled grace.
The murk and grime of a shadow
washed away by the coming tide.
Murmurs buttering my ego.

I wonder of a moment come and gone.
Elapsed, erased, reset, and unwashed.
Just a thought, a passing of hands.
I lay gently in the casket with the wilted rose.

Once again I find myself too late to be on time.
Once again these moments expired burn evermore.
Once again the flesh imprints yesteryear's regret.
Once again I drive, and night's ink buries my sin.

So far and yet so close we seem
to be from the things that make us happy.
At times, our game-winning shot misses.
At times, our lovers leave us to just wishes.
Hurt, pain, and sorrow lays in our end
to a life without love or friend.
These feelings strangle and smother
our peace like the wrath of none other.

Repetition. From repeated reaches to resurgence,
to taking tyrannical triumph, to taking rejoice,
I repeatedly have nothing. Words of
“try again” and “get over it” reverberate in
my mind, rocking my resolve to sleep.
Rupturing results rips, tears through tiers of
my resilience, turning me to tears. They creep
into my dreams, upon my thrills, onto my choices,
inside my hopes, like ants in tents. With cruel intent,
every failure rends me so intense.

But how to respond?
If I show a lack of care by a loss,
“Maybe it wasn’t too serious”.
But if I reply with hurt and sadness,
“maybe you’re just overreacting”.
But only for so long can I just
“make the best out of a bad situation”.
How many times do I need to fail,
in order to succeed?
If I didn’t care so much, then
I wouldn’t hurt so much.
But what is a life lived so unlively?
Why am I wrong to make the most
of what I’m given? To wish, to hope
is seen as good ambition when it’s
a success, but when I fail then I overdid it?

Rock is cause, and effect!
An amusing traveler answered with a smile.
Letting out a chuckle, I asked how so?
Reaching his hand for a rock from the street,
He rolled, it stopped after a moment.
He looked at me in the eyes, then walked away.
It was then, I understood.
Exerting force upon it, causes it to roll.
Where it lands, is effects…
Sowing a seed incurs cause.
Returning next summer, a sprout took its place.
⁠— this is effect.