Blood covers the streets i walk
they paint a violent past...
How to explain Present Hope is still something
Not yet comprehensible to me...
I scream wen i see those cold dead eyes
i watch u watch me from afar...
Even prevalent in the darkest confines of me,
I find what I would like to call Present Hope...
Ebony voices sculpted my hands
until I was clutching cold metal...
31st of August 1888
Whitechapel...
Through glazed eyes
gaussian blur 4.5...
Your passing
gives me heady release...
Life, what is it at any rate
the proverbial stage...
Every thing has its time
its own reason and rhyme...
Poem cello wake
a woman who has never loved...
Your stuck in a box..you cant seem to find your...