This beast, wild as the roaring winds,
roams along my peace
seeking with intent to destroy
what i have built.
The snow has fallen as the day before,
yet of its presence i feel a core
melt along with mine.
Unable to salvage the wax wings,
i have grown to large
to brave in the glare of arrogance.

With the earths cool touch i swallow the world
and dream of triumph.

That storm within my head has rotted me so.
Whats to be of the bird mimicking my sanity;
A cry sung to deaf ears, again forgets reality.
So, it grows as the days go by, at knees to a lovers eye
So, love has come, as it will go, forget not to feel;
That which has been felt at that sworn goodbye.
Thoughts of peace torment a soul;
That storm within my head has rotted me so.

That storm within my head has rotted me so.
Frail of resilience against the blowing words torn;
All said of love in absence of light, again is born.
As I was, blind to faith, seeing fly, man’s pale wraith.
A blistering inferno of summers reel;
Of epic sights surging a man standing great.
Yet I, left behind, mustn’t grow,
That storm within my head has rotted me so.

Lily, my sweet water lily, let not the ripples swill your flame,
nor the warted toad exceed your range.
Though the rain disturbs the water it cant disrupt our love,
This lonely love I pray you feel aswell, keeping you up,
as it does I.
Though the words I say are battered within the tumbling droplets, and fall into mere ripples upon your grace,
I will never stop crying them loud.
Though stones skipped, scar your once pristine complexion, I cant mind, for I too have left myself robbed
of self love.

Better to be drunk and inspired, then to be nothing at all

Once more did the snow fall slick
Drip, drip slicking the road did the water works.
Her tears took me along a dark street,
With the shadows I heard my fears,
Doubts and sorrows;
Playing loud then quiet with no stop
Again I continued along the solemn path,
Until
I reached her loving bones,
Home was how it felt, her joints rattled eerie gasps
Of my deceit
And I knew of it all, the love,
The sorrow,
That I should not have brought her here.

The hare dug up the soil
Seeking life among the sycamore roots,
Gentle rhythms serenading the earth,
Yet it stopped,
Calling how rude the hare
For ripping at its surface
But the hare shan't care, for it means little to the earth,
As the earth means nothing to the North Star.
So why shall the small be placed large among the worries
Haunting the lively marble.
To say

If you seek a rose within a wheat field you shall search forever.

Had you a sense of the word before its use?
Pre- insult powered of hatred,
Had you nothing but a mere willow of its language
Its vowels weeping along your tongue,
Lashing out, breaking skin;
Had you fear of the unknown, yet ventured nonetheless.
A little lost threat,
Of this I will bet
Calls empty as the barren scape,
In this I doubt
Word of mouth will escape.