The Writer.

She holds me,
sometimes tight, sometimes light.
My blood,
drains away for what she writes.
My nib,
Kissing the soft paper beneath,
My hat,
Gets chewed on by her pearly teeth.

She’s happy,
Her fingers caress my long neck.
She’s angry,
The same fingers strangle me to death.
She sad,
Her tears wipe away what I inscribe.
She’s scared,
Her damp fingers roll me aside.

My ink and her thoughts,
Are merged into one.
She writes about fear,
And she writes about fun.

I know about her life,
The pain endured,
The happy times,
The scars cured.

But she is me,
And I am her.
Till the very last drop,
I’ll stay with her.

The Wanderer

Wanderer.

A sprinkle of stars,
A still city,
A throbbing heart.

A whistle of breeze,
A sea of emotions,
A wandering life.

A thin thread,
Of sanity,
Of promises.

Fiercely strong,
Dreamily high,
Hopelessly in time.

And music.
Of celestial lullabies,
Of eerie whistles,
Of broken strings,
Of camera flashes,
And of the waves of time.

Just plain, energetic, moving music.

Abstract Night.

Look up at the dark – dark sky,

floating dreams, fiery lights.

cryptic stars, made up fights,

sky of blue, quick surprise.

chromatic moon, everything’s fine,

power and glory, men of vice.

zenith adieu, emotions cry,

sparks of faith, trust divine.

colorless rainbows, electric time,

abstract curse, death and crime.

beauty pure, chances collide,

paradox hope, magic precise,

ideas flow, music’s high,

spells and sorrow, majestic life.

addictive words, luxury heights,

such was the night of lies.