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Can I sing without crying?Can I speak without sharingThis pain to the weight of your joys?I will drive you downLike wilted flowers, being weatheredBy agonized rain.Tears that never flowerThe smallest petalsUpon the ends of largest stems,For you still standWithout ever looking beautiful,Deep in the caress of a fading sunOf me,For you. Sickness,HeartacheBreaks open breaths upon…
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Throw the rope,Far from your neck,We have broken enoughNeeding a kiss,To soak our hands in each other’s blood,To bury our lips in each other’s soilWhere the aftermath can be attained,Deep in a tantrum of wilderness. With warmth,Without coldness,Upon summer’s attire,Without the furs to cloak our bareness,We can readFine print barely legible.I feelWilted flesh, to unseal.…
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Attractive,Like dust from a heater.I am stilledTo the eyes that never raise,Though stillHold the charmOf a thousand rushing wavesDeparted from a heartQuellingMy weary mind. Like two stilledFaces, of ours,Licking porcelain from hands,Where beauty leaksAlmostIn drops of rose.I am toTruth’s mattering,Like craving the ice that wandersHer heart,Of cold pages,From warmest words. I amTo the face that…
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Hold your tail,We have both suffered wellWith ease to the morning’s creaseOf a hundred pages to newsHolding words in shallow waters. Beautify yourself,Once more,Playing with fragmentsOn the floor,Of your murdered heart. Hell in you,Fires cast outFrom a frame, about youWhere a painting describes youIn your heated contemplation. Love can offer,We can softenFaces to set the…
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How many tears can I look at you,Of unmatched streamsThat follow a road towards your feet,Where men used to place their lips?Your eyes are the sentiment that needs no balance,For you’ll refuse the sceneOf finality to your pain. You’ll refuse the curtain drawnAbout your blank face,For the script taught you lessonsYou’ll come to accept as…
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Hold in my cold armsThe fewest displacements of your unending height,For you have become too invisible to followUnder the guise of my misguided innocence,Too white to say is untouched,Like snow yet to receive the iron,Like flesh yet to receive a cut. I am too cold under my white blanket,With screams caught in my throat,Listening for…
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Love is never a fair witness,As only the humming in earsThat continually yearnFor the timeless breathsUnveiled from simple lipsThat never kissed another pair,Departed from the moonTo hold a neck in a bite. Her slight,Her state in knowingLove from the disarranged imageHas made me write the messageThat a bottle for the drunkCannot hold.Intoxicated, as I am,By…
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She spent her mockery upon a thousand cutsUpon a broken stemThat raised itself from her heart,Wandering to a mirror.For her face, she saw insects,Not beauty.A small mite has intruded her locks,Full with auburn,Among silver highlights.Of one worn yearTo a love that never gave sight to fear,Except to an oncoming dayOf Betrayal’s betrayal,A haunting of innumerable…
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StrewnUpon the hollownessOf a thousand things never mattered,Upon your grief,Though without the fallen leafThat could identify youAmong the darkness,For eachSmooth texture has become so firmOf the petals that graze your feet,Your hands,Your cheeks,PalmsWhere you set your tears so magnificently. I bleed unbroken heartsOver to you,While love has no ruleIn the state of decay.Your mind,A furnace,Too…
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“All people are treated under the same equality within the workforce. That equality is the objectification of each worker. Were compassion to be the desire for a worker, from an employer, it soon becomes a battle of usage versus what does not relate to usage. It is compassion that has no relation to usage, any…
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“A man is weak when he is honest to himself, though will lie to others. A man is strong when he lies to himself, though is honest with others. Whereas, a woman is weak when she lies to herself, though is honest with others. A woman is strong when she is honest with herself, though…
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“Were the lie to ever be the truth, it could then not be a repetition. Deception repeats. Deception does not direct. Deception confuses. Deception does not speak only once. For truth would speak only once, as it must be the first to exit one’s mind.” – Modern Romanticism Rehearsal of truth is an oxymoron. No…
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