A blemish across the mark of my skin —
screamed into a corner, I’ve screened my
eyes. My chest is like a TV screen, the flashes
of a dream —the world waits for me to
tell a vision.

If I write, I could write, so good and well —
my finger type: printing stories on these pages,
A dogs-ear bent down to listen, to serve the law
as it runs. how long the mile? A canine chasing
commands.

A man afraid of the light, finding comfort
in a shadow. shadowing the past, living
best when hidden in the shade of regrets.
our mistakes are perfect at throwing shade.

Shall I live the blemish of a dream —folded
onto itself, my best days creased like dog-ears,
marking important chapters of my life.

But a man so afraid of the light forgets there
are two kinds: the one that reveals his darkness,
and the one he’ll face at the end of his life.

Still — we must step out from the shadows
of our mistakes. Eventually, you find a time
to shine.

Walking down the aisles of fear –
a thousand miles paved in soft-spoken panic,
a cart full of dreams, half on sale, half returned.
And on other days, I crash like a kart – cornered,
spinning, never quite finishing the lap.
Tell me: what's the missing piece to a scar?
The echo that completes the pain, or the piece
of you still aching to be whole?

Some days feel like broken piano strings –
and not every key fits success, as the minor
hopes can also become our major regrets.
And still, you stay – a melody trapped in place,
living to dream. Yet if that lullaby won’t rest
your mind, find another song to sing.
One that knows your name.

Grinding your smiles, stained with bitter coffee –
as brewed remarks sip back at you. You try to hold
a strong stance in the night, but don’t live for one-night
stands with your own worth. We are all skin and sand –
grains of the past clinging to the present, footsteps
washing away even as we walk forward.