freckle-less clowns
shade-less bulk of sunshine
autonomous happiness in dreamless tents
ear-less music tilted
their eyes as dead as
freckle-less frowns
upon dampen
downs of
clowns – wavering
GOD without SNEAKERS
If there was a God
Listening
COULD YOU PLEASE TELL ME TO SHUT UP!!!
t.h.e.r.e.is.n.o.p.o.i.n.t.t.o.m.y.l.a.t.e.s.t.e.n.d.e.v.o.u.r
I.LEFT.HER.BEHIND
sap.sipping
dripping
a.handshake.though.sloppy
my burning desire
my hands clutching
with HOPE
honestly
Ägg / Egg / trembling
An Easter egg came through the door
anonymous; sender undisclosed
My name in icing; bespoke design
No, not really, but the thought of someone
sending love through chocolate
melts me
everytime
in tatters
I am not going to write about
the things going on in my life
They are not friendly; user-friendly
nor appropriate for a place like this.
There was sun today, I sat there for a while
contemplating the heat beating down
the vacation of thought, sizzling.
I wrote a piece last night, tagged with darkness
No one will believe those lies thoughts
that burdens me, …
The illness is no choice of mine
no trendy stage to spread my doubts
My wishes are small, and narrow, personal thoughts
of safety, stability and loving
embrace; my hero.
The outcome of my stubborn thinking
neither dark nor light the past is the present
you can share your thoughts as I share my misgivings
either way, the mill always burns down
the lady virgin dies and our
sombre plans ends up in
tatters
Burning
She who gave Life, the Holy Mother
The Seer without Sight
The Dreamer without Doubt
I let Her down; again
With years passing
The innocense kept on digging
Digging deeper; a skyscraper inverted
A prodigal son
Lost in a fire burning fierce
A fire burning, burning without
tears
The Mother calling, expecting
Their eyes closed; wondering
The pyre smoldering
Ember dying
Slowly
My Love
No lemons left
No limes
Your bra; black lace; taken off
The
Thee
Therefore me; my and mine
Lusts of One
Desire-Less-Orgasm
Phantom-full-proess
I stand alone
You blank those eyes
I desired
You become
I rarely come alone
My Love
Ruin
I failed
An epic fail
I desired a week away with Her
She who Is – my weakness
Yet when the time came
I bottled
I kicked
I ran
An Easter weekend
Ruined
The fact that I’m still breathing should not be taken as a sign that I am living, but rather as an indication that I might still be alive
me // still breathing (via circle-no-10)
Lament – like treacle through my veins, an outpouring of perfection in thoughts obfuscated by a mind gone awry. Where once was solitude, now a raging storm.
Circle-no-10 // tumbling (via circle-no-10)
bang bang
I didn’t shoot her
There was no shooting
Only the silence, words to
acquire truth
From a set of scenarios
A yield of random answers
All false and thus
The bell of Death
Tolled