the bliss of zero.

don’t know why but churning words is a hassle once I draw a line mid-air I can not redraw it life’s ambitions fade in importance when looked upon from above everything is zero from a vantage point where you feel at ease wishing if you could stop to breathe how nice that would be a…

When you stop to walk…

Sometimes it’s just how things turn out to be; the world leaves you behind and you wonder where you can go; your home seems far, and your heart feels restless. It is then that you think about all things backwards; where you might have made a mistake, why is it that only you have to…

mist of thoughts.

I wonder why when I write what I feel then and there my worries they crumble and flee like a batch of mist rigorously soft yet hard to catch if not for this moment there is none other that can inspire me as much to write what I feel in this very now that is mine…

fear?

is it fear, I wonder when a person’s voice can be poison and your heart trembles at the mere thought that you will be dead if even a whisper of those lips would enter your uncovered heart is that your weakness then? perhaps, or perhaps not since words spoken often carry the feelings of the one…

some people, sometimes…

some people, sometimes will call you names will hurt you bad will kill you like its another game ruining your skin causing you pain such distress created only to gain an inch above your shoulder covering in shame.

A slice of vice..

Thoroughly entertaining is a part of life Where we err as humans should. And the places we fall some lotuses grow, Reminding us of our follies As upon journeys we row. Somewhere each one of us Will make mistakes; Somewhere someplace we will hurt the pace, And yet we will stand strong if only we…

Human?

Every act a splendid dream, If we love the way we look at them. Somehow we are not living our lives As long before we envisioned. Something is a miss sometimes; Often a smile is clouded in thoughts, Suspicions lurk everywhere. A friend might be a foe beware, Their smiles are so glittering and yet,…

disbelief.

how sly Mr. I tend to beware when you smile so carefully step so gracefully talk so normally I keep thinking where you have hidden your unseen thought Walking close I am but a ghost To you non-existent My heart, a disposable fruit What melodies flow when you weave words delicately chosen Shocked at the thought…