When I will be on my death bed,
Lying on the white sheets,
In the cold rooms, with machines
that would keep me alive, and
my wife and children would leave
the room as the time go by, as
the visit hours will end, and
they wish me bye bye,
My eyes will swell, thinking
that it might be the last day,
I am alive, Where,
the last thing I will recall,
is, how you kissed me,
Under the trees, with
your hands around my neck,
with an affection unwilled to end,
and the eyes stared to say,
that you loved me, but never
the lips said, for a fear
to hurt me of unexpected faith,
as I will regret every moments,
for the luck that I prevailed,
And perish my life,
with unfulfilled but pure,
A love, that I wish to get
next life, A new ship to be sailed.....

Remember a time when you cared about me and my life,
when lights were dim and you lit wood on fire just for me,
before 10:40 p.m was too late to talk to me because you cared,
and now I'm scared, sitting on the edge of my bed afraid
like a cat set astray, I'm afraid of what might come by being alone
because being at home was everything you made me feel
and now the steel, the wood, the bricks are all disappearing
and the searing memory burnt into my mind is all that is present.

Please tell me , do you care enough to tell me you're okay,
tell me about your day, what you feel you have to say,
just the way things had once been. I'm tired and alone
waiting for a hello that probably won't come.

I crave the attention but I'm dying for the reminder that you
at least care about me.

Do you still remember me? The guy who's heart has been hurting
worsened by the simple objects in my room, because my room
is painted purple yet feels blue because I have mental images
that spans limitless, all of which I spent time with you
watched the tissue get discarded onto the floor as we cry our eyes out
from the cloud of movies where a man falls in love with a girl
who becomes his whole world only to have things fall apart
as dismembered hearts sit atop the shelf of books untouched, dust filled
because unwilled hearts chose to separate, and life is so much like nature
left and right danger, trust is a hill and mutual care & love is a mountain,
so very worth it but yet so very hard to climb.

I started one step down from the top,
I had weights holding down
the bottom so I wouldn't fall.
But suddenly a violent gust
knocked
me down a rung.
However most of my supports survived the whip.
I climbed back up.

But, alas, the storm was just beginning it's brew
for the gusts returned, angry, and along with came
chilled bones and slick skin. I could not
maintain my place, I was
knocked down three times as far.
With no time to recover I was shocked once more,
I clung to the sides as the wind gained strength, but
it was too much.
The wind howled, the thunder snarled and echoed,
a stampede was rolling through.
My foundation had been wiped away,
rendered useless.
A crack roared from the heavens, and just
as I looked up in reaction, a giant flash of yellow
fried my ladder and sent
my body flying,
screaming.
Unwilled, unforeseen, unforgiveable.

I am on my back
and my ladder is gone.

Narrow roads
Dishevelled hopes
Blank tomorrow's
Is this what lies ahead?
Searching for insolation
But cold shivers surround as the palm pushes me out
What did I do to deserve isolation of the hardest yet
The unrest of another day passing
Asking the question like
Is this life my best bet?
I've endured this devastation for too long
And strike after strike, I've resurfaced again
Tired
Mind completely unsound
Chained, pulled around and round
Unwilled and weak
But I still seek that light
And that hand to dust me off

Begging sometimes seems pointless,
For, what am I here for?
More frustration? More anger? More morbid depression and borderline insanity?
I no longer wonder what possibly could be wrong with me.
There's no specific thing, it's me.
Why are embraces cold and smiles hard?
Why constantly have up my guard?
Why give in to my darkness when I've been rabid for the light since small.
I knew that things would get here, no, I lie.
My Bible's shelfed and dusty
But I know what it says
About children
Who lie.

For once could I be the wind?
I could sweep the crevices and navigate the map of your skin
With warmth of the heartbeat I've adopted as a compass.
So steadily present until flux began to dance
I celebration over my victory in winning Russia.
We'll play as a team since no one ever truly wins Risk.
Let’s leave the board there for weeks. We’ll make a new game
Where we chatter and chuckle and practice crinkling our noses.

Still, after decades of searching for solidity,
We caught a glimpse of its tail around the threshold of the door.
Something licked those jittering moments into place
Locked, frozen in time.
We started a sickness, now incurable.
This will be the last time I hold any type of innocence, dripping from
The webs of my fingers, running for a sink
Or a container that will hold the substance better than I.
One can find molecules of my personal histories
Stretched along the base of the pale linoleum.
Without a notion of an ever-after, I’ll adopt these
Days with you as my middle initial:
Sturdy and solid and attainable.
If it remains tomorrow, you can accept it as an
Unwilled gift, something like the part of you that I
Possess. I promise I’ll leave it in the the desk next to
Band-Aids and cough drops. I bought them to dull the illness.

And the last and the worst of the problems grew slowly
like primitive oceans that the valleys accrue,
and the keyboard and bristles spun webs in the corners
while the masterful details to darkness withdrew.

The seconds would echo if a pause were addressed
and dissolve all the clarity that I thought that I knew;

encumbered, unwilled,
like the treasures of sadness
in the soul that sheds softly while collecting dew.

And then there was quiet,
while the creatures were barking,
and disdain and the darkness receded in hue.

For a moment, awoken, while the thoughts were subdued
But exactly when spoken, uncertainty renewed

I am a resident among stars, though I do not yet shine as brightly as they;
Among words and wonders, wandering, though not lost, still to find my way;
Among dreams unfulfilled, inheritance unwilled, love un-distilled, and a fervor un-obeyed. I am a young prince, and I am about, to come of age.
I will take the helm, I will rule a realm, and may Justice Rule my Reign.
For I am resident among stars, and 'tis my destiny to shine as brightly as they.

Nothing as mind described was sin,
suppressing was actual sin.
It kept coming in,
some days unwilled,
some days willed,
it gone leaving perplexed and guilt.
Flocked and bounced until it got exhaust,
left inside everything holocaust.
Innocent, unaware, bruised himself
in threads of twisted thoughts.
Unshared, whispered in thin air, shredded in half.
Coagulated and stranded thoughts,
bruised and bullied, ravenous remarked, fetched the tears in glass.
Distraught and regret pervaded, filled the state of mind with depressed art.
admonished till blood turned cold, still nothing could abolished the suppressed doubts, it still came out, healthy and curious, to demolish everything owned.  nothing as mind described was sin, suppressing was actual sin.

Hours from now, a new dawn will begin.
Some will celebrate such an event,
while some condemn the act as a sin.
Not a religious condemnation, not what I meant.
For their celebration is nothing but their doom.
They think that they are running out of the gloom,
but, unwilled, a gloominess place is their path.
For they, like Agamemnon, felt Apollo’s wrath.

Stricken with plague, all nations are alike.
For a year, fear controlled and prevailed,
and respect did exist for that godly strike.
But with a new year, the plague, once hailed,
Ceased to be feared, masques began to fall,
and back to the remaining life, the masked ball.
Grisly becoming, the furrows we plough,
as our bodies are but the seeds we sow.

What can the new year add to her prior’s work?
Fires, wars, or plagues, O! we have seen them all.
Maybe new plagues, in the darkness, lurk,
or maybe this year but just another of god’s scrawl.
tell me my lord, while I kneel to thee with tears,
do thy lab rats deserve these kind of years?
While our hearts hope for thy saving rays,
Books are set to memorize these gloomy days.

The strange occurrence of love,
is one to not indulge,
in a vision with no light,
the black is a loving home,
with broken souls that become a gentle touch,
what once was blue from blurs of youth,
is grey with undignified truth,
do I ditch the spoken or the seen,
the felt or the unreality,
the body or the soul,
the heart or my cold bones,
echoes of conscious and the unwilled,
fireflies and deaths of stillness,
a mix of nothing and the scrape of something,
the lack of knowledge about my understanding,
mix of thoughts and lack of action,
seems my mind has turned into
a poisoned slushi of carnage
and
dying passion.

Call it God; Call it Love
Our heart has arrows
Our soul takes aim
We are ready.  We know
What is right but woe
Is me it is not to be.  
The world gets in the
Way and our libido
Cannot be denied. The
Arrows go forth but
Miss their intended
Mark go not where we
Would have willed them
Our best desires are
Compromised.  It is
Not fair.  Our perfect
Love, our perfect life
Was it not meant to
Be?  What we have
At best is some kind
Of compromise that
Is by comparison with
The ideal clearly an
Ungodly mistake.
This gap between the
Ideal and the actual is
The noblest desire
Debased -is sin, an
Unwilled event that
Took the place of
What one could not
Have.  We do what we
Would not as Paul
Has said.  All knowl
Their True self but
All fall short.  Our
Disappointment with
Each other is mutual
Our love is imperfect
Beauty and truth that
We desired we could
Not have  though we
Burned for them.God
With held His best gifts
So we made do with
The baser metal and
Indulged in all manner
Of corruption. Such is
Our disappointment that
We must all be forgiven
Ought also to forgive all
But this is the  wisdom of
Love and comes at the end
Only after much time do
Know that we can love
One another even as
Imperfect as we are As
God loves his children
Because they all would
Be good if they could.