We are made strong when the long voyage is married by a most repulsive
-“Never have I ever”- (I’m going to take this shot now)
social suicide disguised in your own hand holding the matrimonial loaded gun.
A mile away, Not far from the place where I buried all my regrets, was the rough rugged coast of Sicily; Resting, laying down somewhere beyond the beach, no longer scrambling about, or searching to do more.
I, on the other hand, Was startled as though in great Danger.
In the distance, A hatchet could be heard screaming in the deepest of tides.
It was then, in the rippled reflections, I saw my powerful, most terrible enemy.
To put words down on paper, That can give a memory life. To recreate a moment passed, Long buried deep inside. To compose a verse so eloquent, It can cause a heart to break. And lead the reader to feel
Like everyone else, A poet has dreams Dreams to flow within the letters of the words That lead him closer to his destiny He is partial To imagine What the neural network Across the brain cannot Even if he was
It’s nights like these when I feel like an irony living within itself radiating love yet feeling unloved. It’s night like these when I can’t recognize what tomorrow holds or recall what yesterday held. I feel like an insect crawling