Winged thing,
bruised blueprint,
longing inked into bone—
how does the sky taste
when you flee instead of follow?

I have seen you—
a breath stolen mid-exhale,
a contradiction unraveling,
a hymn hummed through clenched teeth.
you call it survival.
I call it the ache of knowing
you were never meant to land.

what is wisdom
but a body fluent in exile,
a home that never stays?

tell me—
when the air stills,
when silence sutures your shadow to the dirt,
will you miss the flight,
or
only the myth of almost arriving?

His fur catches twinkling light
spots motifs hypnotize.
He paces the cage, restless.
The black claw wants
to tear open raw flesh.
Pulsing dense warmth
flows in the heavy air.

To get closer—
just for a while,
to look into gold-red, cold eyes
To touch the mystery,
to ask what it feels
when it rips apart the skull
and slurps the fading beingness…
Is curiosity worth it?

Nature is no accident,
Nothing is left to mere chance.
Stare too long into his eyes,
the barriers come down…
Is that you, or is that I?
An ominous gaze is a gift
that unveils the fated future.

If they open the door
He reacts without control.
His instincts unerringly
detect unspoken warnings.
Run away,
Turn to stone,
Scream or Faint if you want.

The shrinking, narrow space
puts everyone to the test
in a world of large and small cages.

If only I could express
If only there were words enough
To say
How I feel about you
When you sway, in your red flowy dress
Dear hibiscus
I miss you everyday
I wander off on the streets
In search
Someday
I will find
Where you once lived,
Was loved, spread the same

When she nurtured you
As a sapling, with all the tenderness
You grew in the garden
Where love was supreme
Free flowing, the best
Today, she misses you
In a rocky place
She fetched some dry twigs
Wandered off the streets
Desperate in her search
Of her precious, ever flowering
Red Hibiscus

Death
is a foolish
construct

When we die, we simply
transform
from one body
to the next
We dump one
skin
like a worn out shirt
with holes and stains

When we die,
our souls ascend
leaving only a filthy pile of
meat
behind

Meaningless
Meant to be cast aside and
left
to
rot

And yet, like the foolish
mortals
we are
desperate for life to
mean
something
we take these empty
rotting
bags of bones
and build homes for them
and place them in the ground
and pretend that they will be safe
in their wooden boxes
avoid thinking about the arthropods
that will find their way inside
and clean up the mess
they left
behind

We cry
We weep in front of a
slab of rock
and leave flowers
for insects
rot
and bones

We mourn them
As if they have vanished
never
to be seen
again

We are so blind that we believe this
miserable place
is all
that there is

We need not look down
when seeking those we have lost
but up

For they have not died
not really
they have simply journeyed
to a better world

They wait
patiently
for you to follow
But you are afraid
We all are, no matter how we deny it
We fear oblivion
Nothingness
For we do not understand
who
we
are

Death, you see,
is a foolish
construct