Pushing the snail to reach the fountain
With a simple wish to paint the world

Reaching the fountain to see the snail
In a pushed painting

Painting the snail by the fountain
Wish I did not push this much

Fountaining wishes all abound
In a snailing push of the paint

poems ought to be short to reflect life
but unlike life smooth and free of strife
poems should be abrupt
to reflect death but unlike death should not interrupt

I love you with an innate
effortlessness of true love
a soul in spate
like the bright stars above
light in space

Death literally existed
It was not just
an unhappy ending
in a film separating the loved ones
or nerve-wracking helplessness
in a  novel of despair
death literally existed
in my empty arms and bare hands
lacking you

life is made up of absolute chaos
and humorous incidents
only a carnival can reveal its true nature

you were the closest dot
standing next to me
we visually blended together
to look like love from a distance

It takes a chilling kind of heartlessness
to deny your love
you are the gale breezing through
to fill the air I breath