Ten million bombs,
In an organism,
Single of cell.

The nucleus becomes nuclear,
The ironic cliche.
Instructions to life is unclear,
Resurrection per touch'e.

The ground breaks and falls away,
Supernatural universe all around you,
Leading yourself away,
Venomous vapor clouds you pass through.

Written texts whisper secrets,
"They're secrets for none exist to hear it!"

Ink fills the veins in challenge,
Blood carresses the paper before you,
Eyes stare in mallace,
Rebellion is the potential in truth,

The light dims as you suffocate the beautiful lie.
Thirteen dice becames synchronized with your soul,
Chances are you will die,
Before your art feeds your home.

As sad as this is,
It brings us boundless joy.

From the darkest possible chasm,
Ascends our Chrystal-Rift ******.

I thought I found love,
I thought permanent happiness came,
it was all rainbows
and the bright sun,
not noticing the blue skies,
the gray clouds,
the madness of this world,
I saw beauty in darkness,
I saw wars on light,
firing guns and stabbing knives,
life is like airplanes with bad engines,
even with all your efforts to be a good pilot,
it will all come crashing down,
love was like falling into a never ending cliff,
always falling,
never landing into something too great
but our dreams.
Our "almost" will always haunt me,
our memories will always be my favorite moment,
the looks we share
and feelings will never be forgotten,
for it is a wound,
that healed but scarred,
and left a marking that in this moment,
I became yours,
and you became mine.
Today was good,
but tomorrow is unexpected,
you'll never know what will happen,
sometimes what you expected,
isn't really going to happen.
When you look at me,
I can’t breathe,
the world stops,
and everything becames slow motion,
but is it right to love someone,
who doesn’t even know you,
for years I’ve been waiting for you,
all I ask is for you to be a part of
my life,
because you my love is my light,
that burns the bridges of my all mighty trust,
and now our story ends,
I have lost you,
forever.

They always say look at the bright side
Be positive about life,
but how? How can they see positivity?
When negativity takes over my body.
I can't even see those lights, all I can see is darkness
How can they say let go
When I don't have any Idea which one,
which feelings should I let go
Everything becames complicated
Everything's a blur
All I can feel is pain and I am so tired,
Tired of being sad, Sad without anyreason
All of the sudden I lost interest, Interest in everything I used to loved

Is this life even worthing living?

If you have stress each and every day it just keeps building up
Then one day it just stops and becames peaceful

It's thin, it's yellow, it's HB or #2
It's a pencil with a worn eraser.
I've used it and its brothers and sisters, all my life.

Crayons were OK, but not for my airplanes,
careening across the sky,
bravely engaging Axis aircraft.
Rat-tat-tat.

In 4th or 5th grade, fountain pens were used for English and penmanship, of course.
***** things, splat-splat.
But math was always pencils.
Double digit multiplication, long division with lots of erasings.

When it wasn't peashooter or marbles or some other season,
it was hangman in the back of the room.

In 8th grade, I wrote a 10-minute play.
Subject forgotten, but it was in pencil,
pressed hard for carbons for the other actors.

In high school, another use:
Pushing my frog around with the point,
and getting formaldehyde on it.
So I sharpened it.

I moved on to doodling in class,
during the dull parts
when I wasn't looking out the window.
(Schools weren't like prisons then).

Scribbled math became scribbled algebra,
I started shading that led to watercolor, which I hated,
No precision compared my pencil.

College boards, multiple choice, filling in the circles,
special high conductivity, ultra black pencils.

In graduate school, class notes and coding forms.
School doodling becames work doodling.
Though, I confess, I sometimes used a pen.

Late in life, my  goal was to draw "real good".
Still pencils, but graphite too.
My new favorite is 9B for deep contrast.
That "real good" thing-- I'm working on it.

So put on my gravestone, for all to view
"He wrote as he drew, with a #2".

Time was short
and I was in hurry.

In Prophet of grief―
humility of pain was evident,
when you bit your tongue,
chewing unsavory words.

It was the trouble.
You wanted me to wait―
till eternity.

Someone throws an incendiary
device towards me.
I am burnt alive.

There was no need to invite
a moon. When talking to
you, I need a dark night.

Counting annual rings
of a felled fig tree,
Buddha becames very sad.

A rose,
lay motionless under the river
And the love opened the book
until my echo becames flesh.
In the dark nights,
the stars coming
Your name resounded far away
A rose,
lay motionless in the dark night
if you don't awakens
I will leave my heart cold by your side.