desolation

in my hands i hold
nothing that can be sold
i am old
i am cold
i am living in this hole
where noone ever goes
i am alone
i am a stone
im a rock and not a roll
i am this living mould

hollow by the game
living life until im sane
loving love cuz im insane
lighting liberty on this plane
growing to a godly mane
facing all this physical pain

why am i depressed why am i in stress
why am i a mess why am i lest

life is a song

life is a song; each I is an artist, singing themselves unto the universe lighting the path from fear, the unknown.

Life is a state of growing; Pain is only a state of mind in which we have created to better evolve ourselves as energy.


Emanating peculiar and synchronized vibrations, they are one with the breeze of manifestation.

A concrete manifestation

a turmoil mass exits last,
and with the new break of dawn
ceases it's own sin.

Life is tricky, can't you tell?

Creative obesity
Rots in the streets of these
Irregular casualties.

Singing profanities,
Screaming obscenities;
Falling away from free,
Trapped outside sanities.

Anything sells,
Everything smells,
The world's in a spell,
Life's tricky, can't you tell?

conceiving radicalities

i'm pregnant with radical possibilities;
am i a radical?
yes, no, maybe so...
electric awareness, stresses.
and as i lay down i begin to feel,
feeling all that is real.
contorting these woven dreams,
destroying those setting seams,
no longer lean and mean,
I am a thinking machine.