Untitled Piece 1

blame it all on you,

if I were you,

I’d hate me too,

trying to find,

all the times

I left it all behind,

viewing your pedestal

from afar,

I see you for who

you really are,

perfection is the disease,

mistakes are the cure,

or kryptonite,

having your mind fuming

to be perfect, always right

is wrong, but the pieces

that are off range

are noticeable,

my wounds are in

the open, as you conceal yours,

portraying as the showman,

when does it end…never,

as it is never ending of

the perfectionist mantra,

blame, to blame it on me,

I scowl at the darkness,

hug my tears for comfort,

one day, you will feel

what it’s like to be hated,

your shrouds will be exposed

and you will feel vulnerable,

out in the open, foolish,

one day, someday, but not today.

Untitled Piece 2

your shift

shatters all obstacles

penetrating the core

captivating my soul.

Untitled Piece 3

standstill,

and I still stand

with my heart

open wide,

vulnerable as it

has ever been,

stagnant, defying

souls afloat, out

ghostly fingers touch

but goes right through,

still, there is nothing

that we can do,

still standing here

against all odds.

Untitled Piece 4

high, on the imaginary Cloud Nine

low, like the Earth’s unstable core

high, floating in the Universe

low, like the depths of Hell

high, on the throne of self-knowledge

low, like the submission and self-defeat

high, into the oblivion

low, like the crumbling foundation

high, everlasting…

low, destruction…