Maybe I will die today,
Maybe I am dead.
The song of day rattles in my head
As though it is the last
Of many faint tunes
Distant in blankets of snow
And tears ran cold.
And I think I am dead,
Lead me back for I am scared,
I know not where I step,
I know not of myself in this world
It all seems sad,
To wish death at mornings break
And to regret it within nights blinding dark

Had it been the place in which I was conceived,
Then surely the light would not be relief.
Had it loved the street on which I was born;
From the socket, bones would surely be torn;
From the sockets on which I walk so free;
From Standen street to the timid oak tree.

I’ve known it to follow whichever I roam, from conception to birth to the warm missed tomb.

I hear it
I hear it call
I hear it
I’ve heard it all

Left of hope lies, love.
The prowling lion,
The snowy dove.
Drawing near my way,
To light ahead,
The bird of prey.
But I'm caught
The candle burns,
But blind to light
Is hope of sight.

The timbre wolves dreamt a lone dream;
Realm of the young, a gentle
Scream,
Cries it untrue,  I am me;
I am a stream of lost quests concerning future,
concerning death,
It is path, valued if she, they, the queen jewel.
Cruelty crowned the lost soul, the howling hound.
Calling upon moonlight jazz, it's grand rule.

You die only once,
But live over and over again.
.
Enjoy it

And my mind is a corpse,
long since buried,
long since rotted.
Within are maggots feasting on my joy,
As the last of my fears fall to dust.

And my mind is a burden,
on which I must walk day in and day out.

I will dream of walking to you,
But surely, I would die,
Before my thought caressed your face.
Before they hit the ground,
those tears you cry.

If I were to sprute arms like sprungs
On a fork, I would reach you.
I would teach you about the light
On which I live each day.
The wind would lessen its push like
a waterfall of earth.
And I would remain standing.

I am trees.
Transport of air.
Bare of chest, young,
Born again,
Torn again.

Weathers unnerving tempo
Draws ****** of livid bright
Drawn near though mad and slow
I, man of mere human might

Gazette it as life to death
Not so, we must choose
Appear ahead, loved and left
Of our own deeds we shall lose

There’s a tree down the road,
Often caught in the west
Blown east by the west winds.
Blown east by the west winds.
Blown free by the stressed winds

Surely not of anthropogenic
origin.

There was a child down the road.
Blown south by callous winds.
One must mourn one gone.
One must.
Mourn one gone.

Surely of anthropogenic
origin.

There was a wild north wind
Once upon a time.
It seems to have relinquished
It’s domain.
A pastured peace,

Surely of anthropogenic
origin.

Within the room she sat, lined of wood and paint,
Did the sun highlight her emerald eyes and her pursed lips.
Whispering her lies
Of I and her, dates long over, kisses lasting forever.
once this energy has been shared, it will last.
Of future words striking light upon times past,
So let me lay, listen and love, this angel carried by heavens
Dove.

The chickadee sung of dawns brilliant sun,
He drew me young and happy.
Though morning mourned its swift demise,
I smile in life's blinding rhapsody.

The songbird continued a great reprise,
Of emeralds bellies value.
Narrow of sight upon black so bright,
Ever so quick to catch you.

The fallen son in an obsidian night,
Shattered his hope of heart.
Grand amour of a long living jewel,
Enticed a rise from dirt.

If I collapse, into dirt
And deep earth, would
Your sun still rise
Or vanish, still and forgotten.

Had you a sense of the word before its use?
Pre- insult powered of hatred,
Had you nothing but a mere willow of its language
Its vowels weeping along your tongue,
Lashing out, breaking skin;
Had you fear of the unknown, yet ventured nonetheless.
A little lost threat,
Of this I will bet
Calls empty as the barren scape,
In this I doubt
Word of mouth will escape.

So green again turns a glamorous white, dancing upon itself,
As the sky meets earth, sleeping along the horizon.
The grass has perished, but dreams flaming in ash live,
A spruce standing of pride below the north star.
And time has swung selflessness in the bitter, calling forgive!
Let fly smiles of joy, a rhapsody folly with life.
To fret in thought of inked paper, rests below thought in mind,
as persistent beauty calls faux a changing tide.
And too does the tide seize, with blades etching abstract within,
the cover it crouches below, breathing a gentle glow;
Below the constant moon, wishing me happy from my window sill.

One seemed enough to light the world,
But the sundog brought upon two more,
And three was too much.
Love should only be plain if it is spread
too wide.
That cocker spaniel of light snarled
at the stars,
for they only arrived at his leaving.
And he believed in little, unless the moon told him
otherwise,
for the moon never let love be spread too
wide.

For the seeds of
immortality are
Belief
In the sun
In the moon.

The sun lights my sadness, My heart
Is like an early Earth, where no joy is birthed,
Merely consumed by iron flames and gray rock.
From my blankets I turn, to face the Suns smirk,
He knows dew drops and seas of which I’ve yet to dream;
He knows the door I hide behind shall never lock.
And my heart joins me at noon, when gloom of early day
Resides to memory, and only then I see the sky cream,
The grass green, and my tall hope hiding behind the willow tree.

I reach, tall as I am, yet to no success, I am cursed to remain
sad; and once more, as horizon captures the foolish Sun,
Does my heart light my night and from it I can never run.

Once more did the snow fall slick
Drip, drip slicking the road did the water works.
Her tears took me along a dark street,
With the shadows I heard my fears,
Doubts and sorrows;
Playing loud then quiet with no stop
Again I continued along the solemn path,
Until
I reached her loving bones,
Home was how it felt, her joints rattled eerie gasps
Of my deceit
And I knew of it all, the love,
The sorrow,
That I should not have brought her here.

My jacket sat warm below me.
And I sat warm in my home.
The vein below her eye,
Flowed blood as if to cry,
Why?
At least she's alive.
My last love, she has died;
Not of natural cause,
But a broken heart.

So I grabbed my jacket,
For I am a dreamer.
And
I
Do
Not wish to dream of loves
Rapture.
Instead I shall witness,
horizons end,
And know it shall not follow.

Found in Eden as love lives
"Let it live!"
He screamed
"Let it!"
Feet brush grass
Swirling in style yet seen
Peak of eye by brook and burch
As it were spoken
"I've heard"
He called
Yes, in church
Yet dividends runs dry
Though it shan't matter
When where he lay
In the garden
No
No, in Eden not so
And perhaps this is heaven
Not of where, who more so
Is there at times ending.

Anxious flowers of petal dreams
It left clear sight
But man of north bound feet
Stills language of pain and might
Agony and strife bleeds sanity neat
Forgetting how it was
A lake blooming paradise and domain
Yet all guided death to love

I fear Life,
As I do death,
Dark.
To dream,
Of both,
I will wake up
Yearning love, sweet
Love,
And company.
For both
Scream
Loneliness

The continuous lively hood
Of the street corner.
Cars twisting about the brick,
Honking songs of anger.
Littered shakes calling friendship,
Oh
How I envy!
A maze made of pale blue
Hanging over heads
Of the shakes.
But I do
Not,
Wish to escape this abyss.
I have been so dreaming of it.
Dreaming stars upon  
Glass,
And the puddle lining stone.
Intricate lay her solemn head
At my feet.
For
I,
Stale among the standing,
Release a smile within these
Walls.

Guess the peace of
Dreams;
In death shall he join them.
Among the created sun
And the phony rays.
Among your love my only
One.

A ridiculed bud sought companionship,
were none lay.
with time slipped, minutes, hours into days,
With all these sorry couples lying proud,
lay the bud quiet,
crying loud.
Crying how it had come, the sunless ray.
the dreary existence
painted to stay.
And so the paint has seeped
following his tears,
the bud looked to bloom
but in this hope
he surely was doomed.

Sunlight greased the roads,
Sending shivers across.
Falling behind,
Yet never being caught,
I felt chasing a dream.
Along my vision grew moss,
Along my greed grew rot.

But no matter how much I change,
No matter the words spoken,
I remain a dull root
Paid in loves token.

And beauty cries of envy for her
Not of the most superficial;
but because she laughs at the stars,
and rolls against the blowing wind.
The rains of stormfront seek;
to be loved within doubt, loved
upon the grazed fields locking her reflection,
within the sight it sets.

Yet she is mad of desire,
mad as the dog among the iron wire.
Though so am i, mad too,
but of guilt,
of greed in the shallow mans sea.
And upon that thought rolled
the tire.
Away she went
Dreaming swift along the dolphin ever blue;
below surf ,
distant of me.

The hare dug up the soil
Seeking life among the sycamore roots,
Gentle rhythms serenading the earth,
Yet it stopped,
Calling how rude the hare
For ripping at its surface
But the hare shan't care, for it means little to the earth,
As the earth means nothing to the North Star.
So why shall the small be placed large among the worries
Haunting the lively marble.
To say

If you seek a rose within a wheat field you shall search forever.

She b l e w me away,
Like the winter winds.
F l e w me to her eyes,
Where the sirens sing.

And I could not help,
But love her song.
The sweet serenade,
Of times since gone.

In my reality, I immerse
And grasp the daisies
Hold forevermore, unrelenting
Until the world is no more seen
As something man is renting.

Graceful I lay, bout the grass, stretching shade
Along my limbs, the life line I call upon, from joy to blade.
Grey sorrow flicks my nerve
Streaming flight with grace so near
Ghosts of my deeds often done
Crawl of grave reeking tears
Burning minds infinite run.

You, lonely eyes, have accompanied me through
The destruction of worlds,
The dreary plague crying constant sad.

You, flower upon wood, flow free of your own mind.
And for this I love your folded ears,
Your growls flaming a soft smile.

Within this finite feeling rolls mothers tears, growing
Quite continuous stirring in the summer
Rays; yet I have no control, no thought paroled.

Parrots upon the screens I watch, as real as the day is dead,
You, lost soul, envy the phony,
The rich in money, but poor in dignity.

And perhaps I am the
Sky,
Staying constant
Among the
Setting
Sun,
And the crying
Moon.

Lily, my sweet water lily, let not the ripples swill your flame,
nor the warted toad exceed your range.
Though the rain disturbs the water it cant disrupt our love,
This lonely love I pray you feel aswell, keeping you up,
as it does I.
Though the words I say are battered within the tumbling droplets, and fall into mere ripples upon your grace,
I will never stop crying them loud.
Though stones skipped, scar your once pristine complexion, I cant mind, for I too have left myself robbed
of self love.

Fear of the
Lost moments,
Breeds guilt
Amongst those
Kept.

The scent of deaths day
Shall stall man in step
A scent of such odour
Little society of the crowned
Shall lose order

The sound of heavens pearl
Will tame gaunt thiefs, hark
Speek in hush, hear the oil painted
And a voice of innocence attempt
Escape of a soul long tainted

The sight of distressed dirt
Ultimately silenced man in word
Inevitable,indescribable once there
For we are not to give, share
But to be gifted a time past earth

Glow green and die bright
Fall through into light.
But don’t cry for it
Has come
It has come
It cries in black of night.

You are not beautiful, it seems
the world has lied to you.

"And you think the mirror will present beauty to you?"

I know very well it shall not,

for the world has shown me its true cruelty long ago,
I am no longer angry for what I've seen,

it will only haunt me so long as I breath.

"And you breath no longer?"

It is not possible to breath without a face you have removed in
distaste.