November 26th


I stare at the blank page,
Forcing my thoughts into imprisoned words.
Sentence after sentence,
I carefully construct a piece of worthy literature only acceptable to me:
For whom is the judge between the enslaved mind and the fingers controlled by the brain?

A moment turns into an infinity:
the removal of one dictator for another…
Will I ever experience true liberty,
If I am both the slave and the tyrant?

Cinderella falls into the rabbit hole,
And Alice is tricked into an everlasting sleep.
Snow white rescues Prince Charming from the dragon,
And Little Red Riding Hood is the wicked witch.

Yugeur labong ziber ziber awwreu
Gremble remble zench laroux

Insanity is the norm that allows me to imprison my thoughts.
Each word containing many thoughts just waiting to be freed


The Cycle Of Broken Jars


Cloaked and hidden:
i see all and understand
An oracle of souls,
Perspective is investment:
a never ending cycle of give and take

My heart bleeds on a page,
and as all the emotions are carved into my soul-
Each scar and bruise,
Reminds me of the nothingness of pain:
a small black hole sucking away at the youth of my physical cage

Set him free:
Let him feel the motion of the air against his wings
Untouched and unguarded
Then watch him fall:
Let him get shot from his paradise of nothingness
Broken and bruised
Give him life:
Let him fall in love with the beauty of your eyes
Revived and rejuvenated
Set him free…

Plastic Limitations

Poetry, Silent Observations

Dolls lined up in neat rows of ten,
each equally afraid of lies, pain and disappointment
Drawn with aching smiles and soulless eyes:
cages are imprinted with redundant words to spark interest

A new era of egocentrically selfless dolls pollute the aisle
while the rest are left to decay into the dust they rose from
And as damaged beauty is glorified,
hearts are lost to the physical eye:

Money, magnified, manic
Absent, apathetic, abandoned
Grated, generic, glorified
Empty, effortless, edited
the end of each relationship is the beginning of every insecurity…

The Unrequited


He loves her and I love him.
As I sit in my darkened box,
my lips are stale from his last kiss.
He loves her and I love him.
His clouded soul penetrates through me from across the room
and I shiver in instinctual anticipation.
He loves her and I love.
Moments. Emotions.
Fragments of the past six months resurface as routine prevails over me.
He loves her and I.
Forgotten. Useless.
Discarded like death delivering an orphan to a filled home,
a pseudo smile echoing the sweet words of past lovers.
He loves her and.
Ripped out from the protection of my ribs,
I am dipped in the River Styx,
as my heart beats in his chest.
He loves her.
Yet my soul doesn’t weep,
as he proclaims his love across programmed rooftops.
He loves.
In the end, it doesn’t even matter…