A flash followed by a hiss of pain
proceed chronically throughout the day
a moan and despair
the flicker of memory with a mistake
and I imagine my feet moving from the quicksand
yet it keeps pulling me in


Far on the melancholy horizon
with hues of amethyst and sapphire
a single daffodil blooms against the spotlight
I imagine my feet moving from the quicksand
and through a flare of clarity, a dream manifests into truth
echoes of glory pound along with the soft breeze
yet it stops all too sudden
and my fingers brush daffodil solace
all before quicksand swallows the promise of freedom
and keeps pulling me in

ZOOOSH ZOOOSH
White smoke lined cerulean hope
and the train rushed right through
like a shooting star on a dark plain
she squinted and was forced to gaze
when familiar faces stepped onto the train
the train of aspiration mixed with aim
she, the girl of elusive stone
with lively feet glued to the ground
and ticket in hand ready to set free
was forced to yearn but withhold
(a ghost attempting to grasp mass)
as the train dashed right through her soul
and her chest caved in knowing
the train had left with her only a few feet away
ZOOOSH ZOOOSH!

Compressed material against dove-like skin
it's iron coated with fire and ice
a faultless vest trained from the best
to reject nefarious activity thrown her way

the tick of the clock breezed by
and her mind forgot the feel
of her petals against the wind,
the jabs of thorns that drew blood,
elation in the form of a smile,
and the cadence of the wheels
as age's stampede never slept

suddenly the sun had risen and fallen
more than a couple of times
and the iron had blended with her skin
dominant silver swirls and cream scrawls
her forsaken emotions dissolved into her soul
they thrashed and fought like wild animals
tried to break free from the vest of fire and ice
she felt the stings of bees in her pores
though iron is too strong
unbroken by the song of the tears that never fell.

A ghost of a feeling brushed iron
a mere tickle in a sea of solidity
yet unfaltering and bulletproof vest
never swayed an inch
round her afflictive chained heart.

Tufts of shamrock lea
tickling the back of my feet
as I my honey orbs
darted across
the meadow of elusive hope.

His smile so proud
of his moves so smooth
the shard pieces of my heart
I threw to apprise him
of the colors of my soul
that began to blend
since the moment I saw him
across the field of flimsy chance.

He swaggered his way
through the obstacles ahead
smirked when he took note
of the flies that hovered above
but not the fawn of honey orbs
that watched him across the field.

Hefty wooden bricks
piling for the sake of fierce
tone that should be molded
into the best of minds.

Brick after brick
she washed her hands
with tender sheer tears
that dribbled into the wall
as a flawed synonym of cement
the hammer palpitating brashly
against the makeshift wall
threatened to abolish and become
a genocide of it's own.

Even when the bricks
shift into the dirt below our feet
a mop will erase the evidence
of her sedulous perseverance
that will never be acknowledged
like the leafs on her tree.

It is curious
that the most wonderful of all
last so little.

When the caterpillar blooms
and begins to revolutionize the world
casting small light to endless darkness
dark haze absorbs the glow into nothing
and the butterfly cycle comes to an end.

There is a small amount of spark
deep down in the nothing
that not even the rulers of this world expect
but with the courage of the soul
another butterfly will burst to life
and rattle the darkness.

There is something deep within us
threatening to burst free
only with the true choice
will it come to life.

that something only shows when one is truly alone
or when one finds a deeper connection with someone else
it feels like electricity
once the connection sets into place an electric shock can be felt
only then one knows when to show the colors inside
it may take time
but the best things always do.

that something deep inside
is so precious
it can only be shown to the best of people
it will come to live with the best people.

They say ignorance is bliss
ignorance is fake bliss
you do not see
you are blind to the horrors
so everything is one color
how can you expand your mind
when you can't see.
You're afraid to take the blind fold off
so you don't see the beauty of knowing
ignorance is fake bliss.

Stuck
like a bird on a cage
nowhere to go
nowhere to fly to
what is one to do on a situation like this?
where everything is constant
constant downs
no ups just downs
what is one to do
when all you can do is walk
and all you want to do is throw yourself up in the fresh air
and fly
obstacles will bring you down
but you will go up once again
much higher
and higher
and higher.

What if one knows what to do
but shackles hold you to the ground
strong, rusty shackles
what is one to do then?
what if they are shackles of one's making?

All is forgotten when the rythm sounds
music drives you to a foreign wold of bliss
where everything that matters becomes light as a kiss
where everything ceases to reck down grounds

The peace that numbs all feeling of cold grief
takes me back to times when sorrows where gone
before our worthless fate was sealed and drawn
a tune that saves me from the mighty thief.

The destructive storm that is within me
whirling around like consuming dark haze
cease to exist at every melody

and when the final note has been ablazed
the shadows and demons come strolling free
where they'll remain till the end of the craze.