There are times when I see my solitude
as lazy swirls in warm sand

fingertips of life gently teasing their granules into shapes I do not recognize

yet they bring comfort in their fluidity.

I can’t help but escape to moments
that mean more than me

and so much more to those who wander times sandy shores seeking their own solace

imagining what types of creatures live
to make such intriguing trails

and never linger to share them.

There is a kind of beauty in that..
such beauty there is and never was.

chair is spinning around with shriveled leaves
rustling emptiness is what we have
engraved into the souls
imprisoned into the hollow beliefs.

let the dead howling
fight with the strom inside.

you will, won't you?

Croon thy words
In a tune loud.
Wrap me ****
In a white shroud.

Yell thy whine
for my chained soul,
What shall determine
The dead one's parole?

Solace me dear
For death I Fear.
Strange is yet
That All I hear!

Dead one fears
As corse is hurried.
Don't haste to the yard
Where bones are buried!

Since I hear,
Speak to me dear.
As far I am unalive
Azrael won't arrive
And
Speak to me a lie
Until I die.

I want to meet my opposite,
And attract to her beauty.
We'll find places to visit,
And travel around free.

I want her to not be afraid of being afraid
To not be afraid of not knowing
I want to know that we're made
I want us to be glowing
Her positivity
My negativity
Together an eternity

Sometimes it's best
to retreat
in the silence
and take refuge
in your own self
No one could
ever feel your pain
In the same way
as you do
my dear
do you know?
a few words of comfort
and solace
spoken softly
can surely heal our wounds
swiftly...

i have always been enough, now i understand.
far away from you, this is where i stand.
you being my solace was a mistake.
pills of euphoria i must take.

Lost in thought
Mind is gone
In search of solace
By breathing in
And moving on

That small town is my torment
And this city is my solace
The busy streets don’t have room for a pit
And the city lights brighten the darkest nights
The people bustling and hustling even on Sundays
Oh, they don’t even have time for haze
Remembering and forgetting don’t require wit
The best thing this city has taught me about suffering is that I should own it
I did not lose the pain at all
But this city taught me to stand up after I fall.

Time has fed a burning fire with dying embers.
A dwindling light in the winter wind, flickering
As the night sought to put it out but could not,
Resisted death and not once lost its light.

Still I pitied it. A candle hanging by a thread,
Waging quarrels with the wind, found no solace
In my cupped hands. The cold and bitter tears
Of these winter nights pelted its withering spirit.

Fear confining you
Bound to your bed
Solace; murmur whisper secrets
Until the sun shines unhindered
All the world cries out comfort
In the flight of bird-wing wishes