Progression or depression, it depends on the portends. But never regression.
Betwixt imagination And anxious reality You exist; A phantom. I hear you
Crush my heart And take from me The very passion that is my soul; Rip it out And leave no doubt
Look, the moon is out! It’s almost full moon. But it’s midday, the moon’s not su… Go away moon!
I believe music is the tragedies o… micro-dosed to us. A chord change to minor ends with us crying, a picardy third
Yellow-green leaves lie still Upon the concrete ground. Cars are parked, People are sparse; It is the afternoon.
Smile at me you vixen, melt me and step your red stiletto in the puddle,
I can see you’re still bleeding. I would like to dress your wound, my wound. In my haste I now realize, I bleed too.
What is going on Does anybody know For I am lost More so by the day And what is this?
Humanity is a tired, jaded, dirty face with bright
Around her neck Hangs an emerald line, Dotted with sun-facing flowers; Silky smooth, speaks her mind. This line brings this poet
The wall’s broken down, The river’s run aground, The water’s sound Is nowhere to be found. The angst of it comes to call
Listen closely to this, mine beati… Thumping with passion, imagination… My longing onto you it does impart In the tuned key of deep adoration… This rhythm of love, it came nary…
This headache, these carpenters in my bedroom, pound my respite with no quarter. Just now, I need, despite the con…
Bestow upon me wisdom So that I may forget it Once again.
