No more asking of “what” and “why”;

As always, silence replaces the weeping.

I keep repeating that you are not alive,

But you are not dead either, you are just sleeping.

I hear your steps on the staircase,

Your voice rushes in, then, the smell of your hair.

You smile at me, and I look through your face

As the cold of eternity fills up the air

And rests on the lifeless face ...

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I cut an apple

In two halves precisely.

Now how do I choose

The finer half?

Life is made up of

Half-truths and half-lies

And then of the almosts.

My half-live half-lived…

The other half is still

Inside the magician’s hat.

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The time is crawling

On this slippery Friday afternoon.

My body is trapped

In an hourglass room.

My poor empty body

Can no longer feel the pain.

There is a dry flower

In the corner.

I have been staring at it

For the past hour.

Does it crave love

That I can no longer give?

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It was me whose glimpse you caught

Hurrying,

Turning around the corner,

Wishing to go unnoticed.

It was me you felt

Sifting through your fingers

Like sand at dusk,

Sitting alone on the shore...

It was me you smelled

Walking through the autumn orchards,

Through the sunlit prairies,

Through the second-hand bookstores.

It was me you tasted,

When you bit an unexp...

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Poetry, heavy words for all souls that want to be free,

it's the burning sun above the dead trees with no leaves,

saluting all the real ones and the OGs that people ought to be,

running wild chained thoughts with no minds is what they seek,

watching people burn from the white fire trying to flee,

as the damned creatures banned from Heaven have nothing left but to go down on their kn...

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occult curriculum, whispers of the ancients, leave for letting out secrets
oil lamp kindling catching flames; shining begotten light from passerbys
in between classes, shifting penrose stairs lead into underlying framework on occasion
halls lined with rooks adjacent and curators searching for a select
rites of secret passageways proclaimed, karma to the dark is just a means to an end
time and...

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Shining ever so bright
a beacon of hope, like a chinese lantern
photosynthesis get' me through the night
beauty so divine, i wonder if i could map her
would the geometry show me the light?
because she must be god's best work

my third eye look through the peephole
how can she not have walls up when she deals with these people
guide me, be my mentor
would you take my hand, and put this flow...

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Matriarch butterfly, conduct conducive
mother gaia's demeanor echo.
as you move mountains

as she size your shoe, electrifying presence
you're so well grounded
heart fluttering, don't be disheartened.
trumpets erupting, as you walk the walk, my mind carry off as I'm wrapped in your minutiae

Shift the world, your tectonic occupancy lay rise to volumes of topographic novelties
distinguis...

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You know that you are having

An out of body experience

When you find

Your heart and your mind

In a different place

To where you physically

Are

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The night 
has some secrets.

It is still burning 
in spite of 
its deep burns.

It shows 
it has received
those.

It confuses us
with some
cottons.

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Tell me woman, who is more honest:

The face who smiles, with bright murderers standing in lines,
covertly grinning, 'love exists, but in ways',

the face who cannot smile, even if it's smiling
as his beautiful eyes, now grown up flames, increasing their shape
in a strong kiss that bends two forests,

the face who lives through a fair winter
and claims, it hasn't cried
and the banks whe...

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