endless sin.

one after another, often failures pile like bricks of a wall that block your dreams. you go on still with a wavering heart, running with wounds that the world has caused. your soul so weak, a painful state; your nightmares growing in an empty space. forever a burden, unless you win; your strangling greed; your endless…

pains of an age.

after years you realize the painful truth that perhaps, not all dreams are attainable no matter how delicately woven how much effort has been put in some things in life are just dreams that are not meant to happen…

Morn Anew.

sometimes, sometimes, the world is blue, hands are cold and the pathways dark. often it is the gloomy sky a terrain filled with screams and cries. then again it can be just one man standing, watching it all, yet not moving a step. it is his fault and no one else’s, for the moment he…

Trust.

believing you’ll be there, I walk into life, day after day. you are the sun I rise to. can I go on without you? perhaps not. our bond’s enforced both ways; our happiness entangled always…

stripped of it all.

crumbling noisily a detestable face and a pathetic expression naked stripped of that moronic mask that’s been hiding the heart it feels light somehow all pride, all ego, all things fake as they fall they make noise but not as much as silence that slowly grows within deep and scintillating mysteriously melancholic yet drastically philosophic…

the last one standing.

hate’s baby was me perhaps they proved to me yet again how brave I can be yet how helplessly a coward waiting to be hurt and hurting myself more its a cyclic demonstration of a war that went cold what shatters may not always heal and yet often it is the loss that gives birth…

alcoholic.

as I write I dream a distant thought flashes of memories people’s faces known, unknown slightly painful a joy somewhere glows faint yet again its pain and a blue A moon-like state alcoholic grace mysterious incompletion dark decomposition a paralyzed phase life’s philosophies they all deteriorate and yet somehow its swift like a swing of…

warm whispers.

her breath on my hand warm like the sand on a summer afternoon her sense beside me I feel nothing but her I see none but me in her, I live a dream subtle her taste her touch a breeze what I lost all this time I find in her and she herself finds in…

poems.

there are poems in my sky swift and vivid they fill my breath they take me high losing strength I fall to the air it carries me like a tender child I lose my way but I do not sway without the caress of this splendid wind I might be suffering and yet I know…