In the name of love, you are silent without words..

In the name of love, you hide your self in the shadows..

In the name of love, you scream in the foam..

In the name of love, you leave me alone..

In the name of love, you do not move..

In the name of love, you let me hurt..

In the name of love, you let me down..

In the name of love, you do nothing..

In the name of love....
In the name of love....
In the name of love....

I don't even know what is the meaning of your love...

it never favors one over the other
regardless of skin colors --
white, yellow, brown or black
  
not even the most discriminating eye
can find any bone
to pick with

there is something in the corner
I see it
no, now I don't
I just know it's there
but the corner is dark
it changes its face
like a clown
happy or sad?
you decide
now I see it again
its there
but I don't know what is it
I just know its there
sanity

The memories of raven black obsidian
Well up at the sight of my new blade.
A midnight blade, with a red groove,
Running it’s own comet like streak
Down the center of the curvature.
The handle is made of an ebony wood,
A wood as dark, if not darker than
The blade it so reliably holds together.
A thin silver band wraps the division
Between the blade and handle,
And blocks the sheath from over-sheathing.
The sheath is also made of the same
Shadowy wood as the handle,
Giving off an aura of pure functionality.

This was a weapon made purely to ****.
The air around the blade shadily undulates
Like heartbeats through crimson arteries,
Telling me it’s immense bloodlust.

I've quarantined this tenderness for now
Of failure, evolved away
Not for the weariness of blood,
Coiled upon our ivory
Not for the reeling about it all,
Painting them with quiet eyes

Please.
I never wanted to know about this.

All I used to need was a shadow
Not for rest
For food, fruit
For time sulking further into the earth
My love, it was all I ever wanted
But a world without end

Sunlight bathes a bare branch, bright chestnut.
The tree’s trunk is in shadow,
The color of bronze.

On the face of a cliff
The wind blows relentlessly,
A furrow the wind’s full tally.

The sun’s light moves off,
The bare branch
Fades from all view.

There is a lonely shadow that
Roams the street at night in search of her
Body, but she can’t, for it is buried under
The earth without any intention to leave
Its new humble abode; and it dwells there
In peace, and in sorties the ants looking
For pieces to steal and to bring to the
Queen; but the Shadow still wanders and
Travels the earth; the beginning of time
She beheld , and of the end she will be the
Observant; th’ immortal and the most
Docile servant; and no one to talk to and
No one to speak with; so she trails ever
Onward; with no sense and no purpose,
With no one to back her or lend helping a
Hand; so she strides and she cries with no
Hope for an end