the mattress is possessed and my days are numbered

my numbers are possessed and

tree branches are starting to grow from inside

my neck, sprouting ****** bulbous limbs

wearing the springs of my mattress

in my sleep, the tree talks to my mattress

from my throat

they are in cohorts and I suppose

the ghost has nothing to do with it

but in the end the ghost will

have an affair with the mattress

and they will run away leaving the tree

and my numbers

I can’t speak because of the

tree

and the karmic terror

of the heavy branches tearing

through my throat

the ghost doesn’t know about the tree

the mattress will never tell her

the mattress is missing several springs

the mattress is possessed and can only speak in tongues

so the ghost only hears the whispers of leaves

Fishes weren't meant to fly
But what's stopping a fish to grow wings
and fly away
Fly away from Mercury Waters
Trees aren't able to walk
But what's stopping a tree to turn it's roots to legs
And walk closer to the sun for comfort
What's stopping you from reaching your dreams

I am alone
Quiet roads and broken trees
Are standing like mourners
I am alone
No family or friends to guide me
No one is there
I am lonely
I wish someone
Anyone
Was there
I am alone
And I am lonely

Standing tall on the highest mountain
surrounded by clouds and the most beautiful fountains.
Against all odds, the tree grew on the toughest rock
up in the sky with the highest-flying hawk.

The cherry blossom reached for the sky.
The cherry blossom wanted to fly
to see the world from up high
to see that last as it dies.

The cherry blossom reached its goal
but all too soon it lost control.
it wanted to see it all
even if it meant it'll fall

The cherry blossom reached and reached
while its trunk screeched and people preached
"trees aren't flexible," they cried
yet still, the cherry blossom tried

the cherry blossom soon adapted
for it never ever got distracted
its trunk had bent and curled
and soon it could see the world.

A tree stares in disbelief at
an axe with an unsharpened edge
Unsure if its fate is to be beaten rather than
chopped to death
before giving birth to tables and chairs
A pavement recoils in disgust
that weeds and not roses sprout from its crevices
Indignant at the unfairness of it all
Even the pictures painted
by words scrawled on anguished walls
seem to have something to say
While I’m lost in thought
on a park bench
trying to make sense
of masked
lockdown/murdering/rioting days

Under the cherry blossom tree
He sits, looking to the sunset.
A life of moon, snow, and dewdrops
Content, his life does melt. So it is...