Sacred and unclean

the emptiness of a silent mind

In the stillness,

I feel the breath of the reaper

warm on the skin around my neck

In the nothingness of a black abstract,

Tiny bubble like screens, one by one,

Moving about randomly

The little shows are my nightmares

Coming alive in my mind

The ghosts from the past,

Whose crooked nails hold deeply into my flesh

They pull heavily,

Drowning me into my bedclothes

Penance never makes the sheets white,

But stained

Over, and over

The sacred deeds would then come unclean,

For the their worth is never enough

To buy my soul from the chains of my pits

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Toy shop

Let’s play street

We walk crowds

And dip into pockets

Filthy hankies are molded

Wiping sweat off plastic faces

The toy shop

One legged dolls limp in muddy grounds

Mother’s tales and unicorns…

dark horses with headless knights

The money that buys all

The mirror of wishes

Speak unto your reflection

And thou shall be

Hanging by loose threads

Dancing lullabies by the puppeteer’s hands

Scribbles

Edges of a pen,

Warm hands

Ruined paper

The language of love

Trying to write about you

My mind is a haze…

lost in senses

I can still feel your touch on my skin

Smooth and cold,

Exhilarating

We never forget the sunset,

Or the sunrise

It is your smile

Tranquility is an ocean…

looking deep into your eyes

It won’t stop

Warm bodies,

The mating dance

In a November rain,

The rose petals are heavy…

with dew from silent sighs

Fantasies are ecstasies

Swimming in the depth of the river between

BluR


Where thoughts wonder, 

Aboard a ship to catch the dawn, 

her smile cuts like rays…

of the sun,

through the dark clouds around a Lonely heart 

The first time,

The deep dive into a continuum

She calls it “Love”, 

Lungs drowning in a sea of fragrance

Inhale her aura

Insidious pleasures 

dancing to her reflection in the mirror…” 

I am Just a blur…

Fading away from her shadow

Salem

Stare long enough into the night, 

Until you see the stars 

And when your eyes become familiar with their shapes, 

Watch them fade, 

Die, 

before the break of a new sun



Life is joy, 

and suffering 

Fabricated dreams drawn in the clouds

changing at the blow of the first wind 



It is easier to accept the night

Faceless,

Blameless,

than the day



Before a thousand eyes,

peering into your soul 

ripping your guts for the vultures 

When church is where we belonged

Before the priest set afire on the witch 



And in all,

my short life I have cherished 

Known a thousand men but one soul

With no regrets,

my ashes will be swept along Salem’s streets 

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