This could Be Magic Only if You
I trust myself too much That I sometimes forget how To trust my pen.
Now, have you seen? The black mane of a dark horse As it slithers and kiss the marble… Now the whore petticoat, cloaks an… On a starry night whispers its oat
If your head Could think it Your hand Could surely Write it.
For death will applaud to us and w… To thee not death.
I have spread the sheet to my bed… Now that there is no more experien… Now there is no more poetry, and n… There is nothing new to write abou… Under the sun or far away from bey…
Is that still you sitting on a bul… Or am i just dreaming, maybe Not a bull after-all or is it a ho… Am i just whinnying, Is that the end of the road
Life is nothing but misery, Every dimension you may prefer Is not enough space for you to bre… Life is wonderful, Live it as you wish and live it
They are not bragging Or that many I could easily fish them out For now.
Rapidly does the spirit roam. Invisible to human And visible to the special ones, Sometimes you could sense Or feel the stroke when walking
I write when am lonely When the world is at its Wicked peak, I write when am scared When the thunder is kissing
My thoughts are All outlined with white Colour You don’t need to Worry; they are
Why are they dressed in red and wh… A black long fur facing towards th… A gold button parting the blood an… Misery of their own existence, and… To please; they are slow nature of…
A relationship without love is lik… Disco of sex, a music, a carpeted… And army of glitzy light of nothin… But a waste of one’s effort to suc… Perhaps love is easy to frisk
It could be one way to live occupi… That is tacking every trousers in… Despise, and dressing every space… Empty space for sin to lose intere… In its options to form in your lif…
