drowning in your absolute **** me.... i'm less alive !
I dive into the waste of our Time misspent on my older youth
to squander the audacity of my bad faith in you.
how long ? Long by two and then some. held for no ransom
my handsome gifts, fetid in the breach of an angel's unsound siege
[ a little late in the day to be  ] but your love kills boys on the cusp
of manly things with a soft heart -
and twice ******. ***** fiend, no more !
more of a joke in the clog of your humid rust agenda
in this war.
my friends call you " ***** "
but you have ever been -
called  " you ".
what creation has installed
into your core, to most corrupt, distinctly more !
a bath of false in a sea
of course chores
for your Herculean
false adore.
i Love less all
the more !

now
prowling your disconnect, we fret, but you slay best
my dragons at the door.
you strive ! more alive when
this beautiful is more defiled
and your culprit ******, lapsed
in fret and guile.
you amass the serene
into pits of unsworn fealty.
you pledge the wretch
of your false
to the Truth of my Cause
and Defect.
Yes! Yes!
Yes!

and I find you wanting.

And found  
no one.

-on the justification of poetry

I saw a rose I couldn't smell.
Though pointless as it seemed,
her thorns have taught me all my life
there's truth in what I dreamed.

Blessed was the day when poetry came of age,
it saved me from pacing back and forth in my cage.

Blessed are the lines that should be carved in stone,
they helped my hand to leave the bottle alone.

Blessed are the words that saved my life,
the words that fed my selfless strife.

I am the Ram
My crown of thorns
Is a burden I carry
Silent and unsworn

Brown are my eyes
Hidden behind the veil
Is hope and demise

With my waking smile
To speak deceit
Would be to defile

Flames storm my heart
The crimson fire
Leaves only ashes to tell apart

I am the Ram
Hair black as night
My horns curl
Pointing towards the light