Live your story free
Unbounded by the world
For you are the author of this story
The protagonist
I am simply a character in your book

Come take my hand
We can get lost in the forest
Raise our fists at the gods
We’ll sing to the whispers of time
And swim in galaxies

Run
Run free
Don’t let them stop you
Don’t let me stop you
Bullets in my head
Blood from my heart
I smile
Go
Forget me
I am simply a character in your book

the old, gnarled oak tree
says he's here
buried sentinel rings
bearing tales of structured deceit
sold as sanctioned to the world,
which suffered in sick and silent defeat.

bearing tales of structured deceit,
says he's here
the old, gnarled oak tree
buried sentinel rings
sold as sanctioned to the world,
which suffered in sick and silent defeat.

which suffered in sick and silent defeat,
the old, gnarled oak tree
says he's here,
says he's here.

Isn’t it funny,
The happiness we pretend to have
Is the very thing
Holding us back from living.

In the quest for the existential
need of nuturing oneself

we dangle in the jungle
by burning candles

it is a super humane thing
drawing ink from another

Secret leaks from
a writer's pen

for we were blind

even keeping
the true devil in mind

sacred to ourselves
as we trip by default
over our own thin lines.

I’m humming too quickly for the birds to understand the melodious
and my dank petrol is now a garden fire
with too many roses for a grim
and all the angelic spoils
of Loving You
completed.

I am stunned.

Stunned where the sun seldom shines
on a prodigal son.
I self sustain in the swoon
as your embrace defaces
my self-loathing.
and all quadrants of Peace
are mine to gather up
into a spoil

and I am happy to remove
the dark

the span of all my Dreams.

for the span
of all my
Heart.

Indeed.

the scent of a rose
the light of a sun
the glowing from a moon
the dust from a star
the tablecloth on your table
the tree's roots cutting into the earth
a world behind a window
the rain sounding from comfort
sea salt spraying coarse sand
an aesthetic
what a bore