there comes a time in your life when simply trying to write about feelings just doesn't cut it anymore.
an assessment is needed so I'll first try to find out what
I still possess
after everything's been burned to ash
"state your goals and execute."
My personality dictates working the hands slowly to build dreams
at least that's how it was until now.
It's life like
waking up to the sky
drum pounding
to the fierce
flames of desire
unlike being committed
and told there is no escape.
that everything's lost because
of the facts they all live by
"you need to " stop looking at non rhyme as a fragmentation,
cliff hanger,
or falling petals set in the context of a conversation about time's inaccuracies.
We are a delicate spine snapped in two
A grace lost falling head first and a
Juliet who sees our death as temporary
I look up to you
not only when the wind picks you up
.
hyper exhilarating forms
stand patient
frozen partial plain
resembling a friend's body
cold wave pulse
the weight of sleep in
kissed broken installments
settling the migrant birds
winter: un angelic industrial
you can feel your face but it can't feel you.
hyper resonant man
.