I fell
into an ocean
of bed sheets
desperately trying
to drown myself.

But instead
I met with
your overpowering
smell.

So I held
my breath
and suffocated
instead.

I toss n turn in bed
Fighting the image
Of you in my head;
Your memory plagues me
Disrupting my sleep
Slowly driving me insane.
As I lay there and contemplate
I can tell I won't get sleep
As I turn over to the analog clock
It's 3am, where'd the time go
I coulda swore it was
Eveleven fifty O' clock.

You may
Whisper lies
But
The truth
Shines along
Colour changing
Patterns
Of your
Irises
Eviscerated
For me
To see.
Observing you
Observing me.

Son of Daedalus,
foolish young boy,
flying through the august sunset background
and tasting the damp clouds viewed with splendor,

Son of Daedalus,
arrogant dreamer,
did you smile to the sun,
before your feather bound wings burst into flames,

Son of Daedalus,
poor boy,
did your soul rise from those flames like a phoenix
with your tiny lungs so filled with salty waters,
did you take one last laugh to the end,

Here lies a boy,
the son of Daedalus,
immortal in memory to the Icarian Sea.

I live in a world of many colors
Of many sounds
And many names
Where people seem to care
But turn out to be the same
I live in a world difficult to tame

I live in a world of pseudo equality
Where declarations are plentiful
But work remains unchanged
Where harsh words take but a second to say
But the impact lasts for many days
I live in a world confused and deranged

I live in a world plunged into darkness
Who boast of immense openness
But remain rigid as rocks
Where nuances are seen and heard with pretences of interest
But internally cast aside with scorn
I live in a world of trickery and false talk

I live in a world of schemes and conspiracies
Where happiness is transformed to hatred without a backward glance
Where creatures with human names
Lead lives devoid of love
I live in a world offering no second chances

I live in a world where only miracles can occur
Where brilliance blossoms desperately like the tired asphalt flowers
Where specks of gold reside among hearts carved out of iron
I live in a world moulting within the hour

I live in a world of imperfect delights
Where wields to satiate one's moaning stomach
Overpower pleas to fill one's grieving soul
Where cosmopolitan societies
Shape answer-seeking personalities
I live in a world, incomplete but whole

I live in a world triggered by cataclysm
Where earth-shaking catapults are inspired
By steadfast truth that still exists
Where the written word still provides more solace
Than any gruesome battle
I live in a world where happiness persists

I live in a world of humanity
Where blood flows rich with eternal adventure and free thought
Where life and death is but a transition
I live in a world of eternal love and change

Less I have to say with criticism
than I do with praise,
for criticism would simply
provoke justification
and resentment.