Don't stop walking, the path will appear before you;
Love will remedy all your pain if you keep your heart open.
It's not about what we think or feel, it's what we know.
So, surround yourself with good folks
Surrender, and just go with the flow

I see a brother in every man,
But some men's egos need to be pet,
If sir suits him.
But what is there
More greater a term of endearment,
Besides father,
Than that which I utter
And wholeheartedly, in earnest, offer?

temporarily
the currents shift to polarity
stars aligned, planets aligned
event horizon, singularity.
vision stretched to infinity
what it means to see me
wihte room, empty spaces
black sea fibonacci
randomized perfection
crystalline & unstratified
limitless, free direction
open palms, third eye
to truly live, and happily die
beneath the ground, above the sky
this union of the soul
to the peace found inside
of the cosmic energy that flows-
eddying currents,
the tides that wash away
the woes of life

After a breakup,
does Love exist in a vacuum of time?

a picture
a song
a feeling
a place
a smell

an undefinable entity.

Does that vacuum exist only in a quantum universe found somewhere parallel to the Heart?
Do we have direct access to the Heart, or merely an understanding of how to enter the melancholy door ?

The Heart never forgets,

only heals and grows
with the highs and lows
does a feeling ever still grow
or simply go
into the black hole of what once was
with the fond bittersweet memories of Love and loss…

Moments in time,
held in a cosmic box,

can we really measure the Love and loss paradox?

I often wonder what would the world look like without me
the ego of man, brazen and bold
what keeps you awake, when others lay
unconsciously
physically opaque
tragically present
ringing echoes of words layed with ink
never having seen the light of the splendid sun
we plot and plot and plot
for naught
we are but a child, collectively
a singular child
one hell-bent on destruction
not seeing beyond the splinter of light
allowed through a cracked door
and the world looks on
with equal parts amusement and concern
our significance is insignificant
both tangible and fraught with the tragedy of being
of the lack of being
of managing what cocktail of emotions we are to be ****** into
when loss knocks on the door

on gunmetal my heart beats,
the smoke is winter,
waves rippling across my cold body.
they've kept the coffin alone,
parched on a wooden block.
ropes tie down my ribcage,
my eyes are shredded in holocaust.
all i can do is move my lips,
to raise the coffin,
to end the numb,
and numb the ending.
my companion is nearby,
we collide on empty streets.
where fainter clouds whisper
to our souls.
do not hold back,
because i won't.

living life on paper sheets,
in between nights and days.
paper planes that'll never reach their destination.
phone calls that hang dry like raw art.
painted sculptures are a fantasy,
my sensory hands, are voluble,
in evening's breast.
the clock moans for tomorrow's ******,
and it's dull hums yesterday.
like raw art, on winter.
hanging dry, devoid of existence.
only citizen of the dead soul.