Is it too much to ask for, The self being contained Under the snow of your eyes Reaching out, never quite grasping The height of the situation.

Ah, my sincerest apologies. I have a tendency to drop dead In front of gorgeous women.

This headache, these carpenters in my bedroom, pound my respite with no quarter. Just now, I need, despite the con…

I can see you’re still bleeding. I would like to dress your wound, my wound. In my haste I now realize, I bleed too.

I have that swipe keyboard on my phone where I draw a line between the letters to write the w… Sometimes, it mistakes the word

In an instant she turned to ice. I fired myself to thaw her. But she was too cold

Progression or depression, it depends on the portends. But never regression.

I believe music is the tragedies o… micro-dosed to us. A chord change to minor ends with us crying, a picardy third

Around her neck Hangs an emerald line, Dotted with sun-facing flowers; Silky smooth, speaks her mind. This line brings this poet

Yellow-green leaves lie still Upon the concrete ground. Cars are parked, People are sparse; It is the afternoon.

Lifeworld is wondrous full of possibilities endless in time theoretically

Betwixt imagination And anxious reality You exist; A phantom. I hear you

The words, the hate Flies, no, spurts Out of your dull mind Faster than comprehension Allows you to filter,