For this moment.

and i work relentlessly over the roads of her material skin. for i have been lost for quite sometime, searching through the darkness being blind for most of my past. i try to contemplate a future without most of her, forcing my myself through the colourless nightmares to be rid of this burden. it has become a feat of enormous proportions each time i attempt to mock my own facts of truth present in my brain. my tears, while already dried up, has formed puddles of black leaving a lasting impression of dread.

why the constant torture lonesome leader? do you enjoy these moments of nothingness? do you find meaning in the wallowing in your own self pity? do you crave this vile display of being? why attempt to fucking fathom such extremes?

i will never understand you, and me.

for which both, at the very core, are the same.

Angels and Demons.

angels and demons.


me and her, the core binary that baffles the conscious mind.

she and i, cease to exist among this overrated society. i have stood shoulder to shoulder with this woman i deem to be whole in my heart. she knows my exterior shields her from most intruders, but my internal structure is falling apart. the bruises sustained from the years of absorbing the hate and dishing it out on the walls that surround it. inevitably it has taken its toll on the mere flesh and blood. the scars visible can be used as a map to find the portion of my heart that has been breached and bleeding.

but i will never falter or come of as weak in front of her. as i am that pillar of strength she relies on to have strength. i am the poetry she fails to see in the sky. i am the literature she cannot find on any book or paper.

angels and demons all come to see me. what i deserve, has come to choose me.

what of her?

relentlessly gazing into the mirror that reflects the truth, is a lie. she would have done the right thing, if she did not know that it was to feel this way. she hopelessly pores over the pages of my journal and continues brushing the droplets away in case it damages the already fragile manifestation of me. she knows that the closest thing to feeling me again, were those words that had been penned down during frustrations of an unforgiving mind. plagued by the mysteries of the parallel relationship of the distance between her and me.

evil and good.
hate and love.
anger and serenity.
demons and angels.

you and me.

she looks up from the defining memoirs and gazes upon the fake reflection. vitreous is her countenance, when she longs for my touch.

i could not dominate my demons, and she did not embrace the angels.

Efflorescence.

when a flower blooms,
i will find her.

and if overwhelming aura can be felt,
i will see her.

and if unmistakable passion is absolute,
i will hear her.

and if intense sensuality is sensed,
i will smell her.

and if sanguine pleasures are imminent,
i will taste her.

so i have spent eternity in an hour. gazing upon star after star. smiling after every numbing episode of happiness brought upon me by you. and yet you mock my emotional conviction, eluding my grasp like the mist that the morning exhales. the countdown clock in my chest runs down with every breath drawn from the innocent air. i awake cautiously just to see if i can steal a glance of the efflorescence of your blood red escada.

alas, that moment passes on.

and so have you.