Wayward Dreamer

Wayward Dreamer Jul 2016

Everlasting pain
flows in her dead veins.
Sadness drives insane.
Blows her mind away.
Solitude and tears,
***** ******* fear.
She’s a walking dead.
Geniously mad.
Always tries to ****
what’s inside her head.
And again she fails,
coming back to hell.
No one ever hears
any cranky yell.
Desperately flies,
incessantly falls.
Proudly memorized.
Innocently lost.

Wayward Dreamer Jul 2016

Waiting for redemption

When my dreams come true,
I hope I get to know.
In this ******* doomed place,
where huge veins have no love.
When my dreams come true,
there’ll be some huge relief.
All over my small cells.
Inspiring my belief.
When they come true, my dreams,
the day they really do,
the heat will burn the filth
inside of you.
My silly ******-up world.
Inside of you.

Wayward Dreamer Jul 2016

Madness is a friend of mine

I’ve always been into my Madness.
I didn’t know I’d go that far.
I’m holding on to you,
my Madness.
I need you now.
You’re keeping me alive.
I’m lying next to you,
my Madness.
I grab your hand.
We stare at fear above.
You know how hard it is,
my Madness,
to feel this numbness
eating you from the inside?
You know how hard it is
to bear this?
You know how ****** it is
to breathe
and know that soon you
will completely fall apart?

Wayward Dreamer Jul 2016

Havoc Beauty

My boy.
My tiny broken boy,
today I saw you crying.
The water still remains pale blue
and you are sick of dying.
You pour your silver on the skin.
The skin you used to feel
when flying.
You aggravate the new-born sin.
Your greatest sin
of being young and dying.
You desperately try to draw
the borders of your lying
on the skin.
The skin you used to touch
when trying.
My boy,
my sweet pathetic boy.
You’re sick and tired of crying.
The blind maze strangles you inside,
for you to keep denying.
Today the water turned dark blue,
but you’re still sick of dying.
You do your fine art
on the skin.
The skin you used to fear
when crying.
My boy.
My funny dying boy.
You end up crucifying
the naked shallow dreams.
You’re sick.
My boy is sick of trying.
You leave sweet bruises
on the skin.
The skin you used to taste
when dying.

Wayward Dreamer Jul 2016

Mute confession

Faking truth,
I’m not ever blue.
Choking on black mist.
Looking for what’s true.
Shut my lips,
then disclose my eyes.
See the gap between me and light?
Feel the depth of my timid fight?
I run out of my neon blood.
I will stare at the blind tonight.
Endless fear and a dying dream,
laugh with me till my final blink.
Make my pulse and thin veins relieved.
Faded say it’s a gift to leave.
Faded lie with two broken wings.
Idle freaks, angels smirk with me.
Shot, they fall, telling they can’t heal.
Drink my tears and then smoke my pain.
Feel the mess breaking out the flame?
What it keeps , I don’t know today.
What it leaves, drains me out again.
What it brings, never goes away.
Lacerating fear with a knife,
I will stroke the color of light.
I’ll inhale the remnants of fight.
Go and look into my deaf mind.
Kiss the gap between me and life.

— The End —