Stains

painting

I have buckets of tears,

For the  lonely.

I have few pennies,

For the empty.

 

I have a beating heart

For the hateful.

I have blankets

For the broken.

 

I try and try

To erase the void

But I feel so small,

And so vulnerable.

 

Can a hopeless have hope?

Can I last until dawn?

For this night is endless

For a life already shattered.

 


Crystals


Shots


Braveheart

braveheart

My life is a series of pain

Often the first people I meet

Were always the first ones to leave

Like a wind that just passed through.

 

It still hurt, yes, I ask myself why

I am always placed in these fateful encounters

Going through the circles and cycles

Of betrayals and of putting knives behind one’s back.

 

Often the first cut is the deepest

A slow torture that cannot be easily forgotten

Replaying like a movie in my head

Haunting my very existence.

 

It is almost always hard to let go

Oh, I will always know when

It was time to move on

I hurts to always say the last goodbye.

 

I form attachments I know will hurt

Full of bruises yet still unbroken

Full of false hopes yet still faithful

Until I had to put up a wall.

 

So now you ask why I was slow to trust

Now you ask why silence was the only thing you got

Dear, there’s more to silence than meets the eye

It speaks in volumes the only little forgotten things that matter.

 

 

 


Halloween

3869366195_5603a08b65

I should have felt fear

Instead I wanted to cheer.

I feel blessed indeed

For I felt no need

To wallow in misery.

I feel like my cup is overflowing

You heard my pleas and suffering

Indeed if this is the path you’ve chosen for me

Then I’m content to have made you happy

For all along you were my shepherd.

I offer my thanks this day

There’s nothing more I can say

But words of gratitude and gladness

No more fear and sadness

My heart goes out with love to all souls and saints.


Letters

letters

You live life on the road

You eat words for breakfast

Just to get by the deadline.

Never minding the ungodly hours

Nor the sore feet from walking for miles

Yet you get to have a love-hate relationship with power

You’re forever crossing a  bridge to danger.

And then unlearning the beliefs you once had

And learning to cuss when bullshits stare at you with malice.

Oh, but the story you look for can only be beautiful

When the protagonist is bad and ugly with money

You always crumple the paper until its insanely perfect

After staring so long at the blank walls of your room

Only to realize with dismay how your work is sliced in half

Oh, but then you are able to see unspoken truths

Never heard, never written, and long forgotten.

How complex can your role be?

You are an observant in an unfolding history

Whose side on shall you be?

Ah, but you’re the gatekeeper of society

It’s a calling, it truly is

For the strong-willed can only persist

From finding the gold in the tunnel.

Knowledgeable about everything yet a master of none

What the hell am I talking about?

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s being a journalist, that’s what.


Alive


Maybe

life

Maybe heaven is hell

And hell a heaven

Either way

I have lived.

Maybe dreams are real

And reality is a dream

Either way

I have lived.

Maybe happiness is pain

And pain is a happiness

Either way

I have lived.

Maybe innocence is guilt

And guilt is an innocence

Either way

I have lived.

Maybe sweet is bitter

And bitter a sweet

Either way

I have lived.

Maybe winning is losing

And losing is winning

Either way

I have lived.

Maybe justice is revenge

And revenge is justice

Either way

I have lived.

Maybe war is peace

And peace a war

Either way

I have lived.

Maybe the present is a past

And the past a present

Either way

I have lived.

Maybe love is hate

And hate is love

Either way

I have lived.

Maybe life is death

And death is life

Either way

I have lived.

And maybe life is a puzzle

Forever a mystery

Either way

I have lived.