Progression or depression, it depends on the portends. But never regression.
Crush my heart And take from me The very passion that is my soul; Rip it out And leave no doubt
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…
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
Is it too much to ask for, The self being contained Under the snow of your eyes Reaching out, never quite grasping The height of the situation.
Betwixt imagination And anxious reality You exist; A phantom. I hear you
The words, the hate Flies, no, spurts Out of your dull mind Faster than comprehension Allows you to filter,
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,
Humanity is a tired, jaded, dirty face with bright
Cold breath Yours was warm No breasts Fully formed Time for love
Around her neck Hangs an emerald line, Dotted with sun-facing flowers; Silky smooth, speaks her mind. This line brings this poet
Bestow upon me wisdom So that I may forget it Once again.
I believe music is the tragedies o… micro-dosed to us. A chord change to minor ends with us crying, a picardy third
What is going on Does anybody know For I am lost More so by the day And what is this?
