He was a magician not because he could take away my sorrows but because he could fill my path with happiness like the bliss in the morning,.. enchanting like fireflies and fearless like his word.

eloquence in this. kiss
& cough.

from dirt to
light to
love.

days begin
with dreamcoast, cast, and chase the air,
or rhythm of rain.

raygun.
& flashpoint to ember.
to knuckle.
to cortex.

she smells fantastic.
she she she
like, a
sweet kind of thing.
like, a
nice incense.

& i feel today is a holy day of the week.

I am not a ****
like you had put me down to be.

I am way more than that.

I'm a flower that will keep growing
even when you're done stepping on me

because you walking over me will no longer have any affect on me

***** ........ From Prophetic .... to Poetic .... to Apathetic .... to Pathetic ....to Drunk .... to too drunk.

There is a Frantic Masquerade, I've heard it said,
where masquers revel in moonlight in the dark city streets.
Their iron shoes burn a smouldering red
and compels them never end the song they sing with their feet.

There is a leather Curtain, made up of silence and shame.
They place upon each dancer's face as they waltz through the night.
They never share a longing gaze, never whisper a lover's name,
and as their souls lose their lustre, their iron shoes burn ever bright.

There is a lonely Ballroom of sad rain and cold concrete,
where masquers revel in terror at the symphony in their heads.
Their steps move ever faster, but their empty eyes never meet.
Hearts cold, they dance with hot feet, ere they're dead.

     There is a Frantic Masquerade, I've heard it said.
     Their icy hearts stave off passion's heat.
              They'll dance that way till the shoes burn through their head,
and only when the ice melts might their heart's dance be complete.

Greenery, O you beautiful thing, barely visible in the wake of early dawn.
Amidst the darkness,dew drops form across your petals.
Sometimes visible like crystals at my lawn.
I look through you, the ray has hit your window,
As I try to grasp the details you reflect like a mirror,
You perish upon my gentle touch,
And here I thought you would turn into gold.
Oh my, I sure am getting old.
Searching for answers within the dew drops of the early dawn,
Knowing everyone just started to yawn,
And lift their sleepy heads,
Here I am standing,wondering where do these dew drops lead to.
Dew drops,you are like ripples of tiny bubbles,
But sometimes,I feel you are the tear drops that fall from the eyes of my own.
And sometimes,I think you are the drops of love from the vast ocean,
Endless,with no edges or corners,
Perfect in your own solitude.