These moving feet always stay hungry
For the steps on finding perfect dreams
Pestering about love again – it really bugs me.
How it usually goes for us, in this love story
Asking myself, “would you really tell me his story,”
Quietly knowing, “you two still share some history?”

Yes, your eyes are both the windows to your soul —
But their curtains are occasionally & forcefully closed
The story of every man, wanting to find that treasure,
Of their favourite girl's heart; marking it with an X,
And they all quietly hope, to closely hear her say,
"Hey, you're so much better than my ex.”
Asking myself, “what love of man, is surely king,”
Cause being that it's all ruled from a wicked heart –
It can take a week to fall in love, but it unfortunately
Takes a lot of us weeks to fully heal from a broken heart.

Love can become so foreign to someone,
Unfamiliar to the tastes of a good French kiss
"What's your love language," we first have to ask;
Body language can differ from what comes out of your lips.
As even a betrayer knows when to give the right kiss…

They cut, crush, cauterize or tie off the eyestalk
of female prawns and shrimp
to stimulate faster reproduction
   usually without anesthesia

I often wonder the complexity of pain felt
when they flail about helplessly
disoriented and dissevered

Do they     rejoice?  

For their life has a gained greater purpose.

Or do they mourn what once was?

For the following generations will be disease-prone and decline
and suffer
and decay.

Nothing we haven't already done to ourselves admittedly.
We might actually be the only organisms
unable to cohabitate with each other.

We seek God to fear our actions
that are preached as sins.
It keeps us good and honest
Yet our empires and civilizations repeatedly fall
generation after generation
as power is granted to our rulers that partake in
Eyestalk Ablation.

For we worship them over God himself.
It's a good thing we were getting tired of God anyways.

I the lie that keeps on giving
twice denied life and the living
we sacrifice our palms and bury our feet
with smiles disarm with smiles we eat
a feast a deluge all is devoured
our sensibilities overpowered
why rest upon a tattered bed
when you can sleep with sin instead
and waste away your weary hours
building castles, steeples, towers
all will crumble in the end
and so to you my dearest friend
let’s raise a toast to that which haunts
the holy ghost and spirit it taunts
that knows not good or evil
a land of lost forgotten people
but may we tread a righteous path
for who knows which will have the final laugh.

Strike, strike, the judges’ night!
Strike, strike, the eternal fight!
Man’s dust claims the starry light.

Seven sins, but hollow shells,
Humanity falters, yet still it dwells.
Wrath’s no sin, though hearts it swells.

Anger of man, a tide of woe,
Must rise, must break, its truth to show.

What is just? God’s searing blight.
What is true? The hammer’s might!

Strike, strike, the heavens’ spike!
Death’s grim laugh, a burdened hike.
Wrath’s deep truth defies the sin,
A forbidden spark, the soul’s own inn.

God spares fools who claim their right,
No judgment falls on fleeting dust.
Eternity’s court sustains the fight
Wrath for choice, for righteous ******!
Wrath’s the forge where hammers sing,
Strike Apollyon’s cursed wing!

Shatter hope that dares to fade,
Let nightmares bleed, let dawn invade.
A seed of grace, the holy blade
Wrath’s fierce will, the heart’s own quill,
Writes redemption’s fire until
The unending night is judged, is still.

I am Greed, the next
No victory is enough
Only what is ahead
I keep my eyes upright

I am Greed, the obsession  
Men gain strength
I whisper, “more”
Men gain influence
I whisper, “more”
Men gain supremacy
I whisper, “more”
Men gain all
I whisper, “more”

I am Greed, the unavoidable
Unlike every other sin, men need me
Men need to want

I am Greed, the collector
My collection is grander than all others
But I covet only one more thing:
Your soul

I push my fear behind my eyes
Further back than I can see
My dream has been eaten by lies
But I am no fig tree

I'm an orange watching my brethren
Ants chewing on their rotting skin
Their future, I was supposed to share in
Their peel, greenish of sin

I'm watching a rotting fig tree
That I know someone must've seen before
I mouth her, she mouths me
Is this all I'm waiting for?

My future may be determined
A rotting orange is all it may be
I thought it was self-determined
But I am no fig tree.

Those who are born in night,
Fear the sun.
Those who are born in light,
Fear the sin.
Though, I fear them both,
For I was born amongst the twilight.

The moon rises, and with it, the weight of my sins.
I see the faithful rush to the masjid, heads high, hearts light—
while I stood here in the shadows, drowning in regret.
How many prayers have I missed?
How many whispers of mercy have I ignored?
How many times has my Lord called me back,
only for me to turn away?

Yet, Ramadan arrives like an old friend,
knocking at the door of my troubled heart.
I hesitate. Do I deserve this mercy?
Will Allah even listen to someone like me?
Hunger comes, thirst ensues,
and with every thorn pricked against my skin
I realized—this is not punishment.
This is love.

I sujud for the first time in months, maybe years.
My forehead presses against the earth,
and suddenly, I remember how it feels to be home.
Tears spill, fervid and unrelenting.
Ya Allah, I am broken.
Ya Allah, I am ashamed.
But Ya Allah, I am here.

The nights stretch my past, and so do my regrets.
I stand in the depths of Qiyam,
my voice trembling as I beg—
Don’t shun me away.
Don’t let me leave this month the same, again.

Then comes Laylatul Qadr,
the night that could erase everything,
the night that could rewrite my destiny.
My hands shake as I lift them.
What do I ask for first?
Forgiveness?
Guidance?
A heart that remembers Allah the way it should?

And then, like a gust of wind, Ramadan is gone.
The Eid moon shines, but my soul aches.
Not for the food, not for the thirst,
but for the nearness of Allah I fear I will lose.

I was a sinner.
I am still a sinner.
But in this month, I learned—
Allah’s mercy is greater than my sins.
And maybe, just maybe,
I'm not lost after all
I am reborn
I am found


Erennwrites