I met you in this crowd.
We never said a word to each other.
But the eye contact was electric.
You never parted your lips to speak.
But your soul did.
It was calling to me.
Almost crying.
Practically screaming.
It is okay.
I can hear you loud and clear.
It is like I am one with you,
before the introduction.
It is as if something was pulling me,
letting me know that it is you.
You are the one.
Do not let them go away from your grip.
The only grip I have on you
is the way we stare into our eyes.
But which one of us will make the move first?

Lately, I've been afraid to sleep.
Every time I start to dream,
I'm greeted by a banshee scream.
I find myself running but don't seem to go anywhere.
It feels like I'm on a set of m.c. escher stairs.
Eventually, I end up stumbling and fall.
And when I look up, I see the scariest thing of all.
She showed me a vision of a wall.
Engraved in the stones were all of the words I had been dying to say.
I thought I lost them.
But there they were just a few feet away.
The banshee screamed again and the ground started to shake.
The wall started to crumble and I knew I needed to fight. There was too much at stake.
I closed my eyes and focused on trying to breathe.
Then I started to believe.
I believed in myself.
That I'd find the words again.
And just like that, when I woke up, I found them right where they should have been.
Bottom line, don't be afraid to dream. Because eventually, you will realize everything is not what it seems.

The rose has thorns because
it cares not to be touched.
Its color is a warning
for animals to stay away.
Its scent is a scream and
not a delight for us to own.
It exists in ****** stillness
bending only for the sun.
The scientist knows this
having heard its sub audible
howl with delicate machines
that probe its roots.
The poet plucks the bloom
unaware of the pain that
created that beauty,
the aroma that shouts
its death to its vegetable kind.

In the middle of the night, I toss and turn screaming out your name
Knowing that even if you take me back, things will never be the same

Today,
a cloud has weeped for me,
she poured her tears upon my
face and washed my wounds

People call the
sky’s tears as rain,
but my tears are salty
and dripping with pain

Abstract extremities
Indirect, flawed with hidden meaning
The author is dead
That's what they said
She's put away,
Still screaming
To this day

The human humiliates himself for a living
And whoever is slave at the servile is humiliated

O mute carefree those who to complain and please
You scream silently and no one is listening

Whoever feeds the servile will provide you fairly
Do not be disheartened by the little permanent

Maintain healthy and calm self
Better than money from a servile insulted

Choked out by the forces that make me scream
Face shoved into the dirt
Boot, between my shoulder blades
Exist in the perfect cacophny of crying and failed escapes

Dragging me into the rivers of salt lined water
Tears don't form when you are underwater
So drown the innocence out of me so I can't think past the smell of dirt
Cover my throat with a shirt, and wait for me to emerge

The sound of a snap, and a flash
I am trapped, kept from coming clean with a photograph
Curled into a ball, trapped in time
Bound in that awful grime

Listening to "Dance Hall Drug" realizing the meaning
And suddenly my head is bleeding
The clock has turned red, and I've lost my head in a guillotine
It's okay, just light a match and watch me disappear; I'm kerosene

I'm easy to control, with a photo
And I'm just an average depressed ****
Drowned into the person I should be
And I guess I am the best depressed verision of me, lost at sea

Clamate dolor