Inspirations
are like birds...
You, my creation, my art,
you every throb...
It was so beautiful
the bouquet of emotion...
Our rages are for our burning.
So...
You conceal your malevolence and greed
behind the edifice of benevolent deeds...
They looked down upon him in dirt in derision.
They never saw him they saw themselves...
Watch the mirage of
your question in the distance...
When you hide behind
the beauty of your dear masks...
Silence isn't voiceless
it's the very existence...
Fleeing from her bite
the giddy kitten of clock...
Time is spiral like a record
and now is the needle...
Horizon is the
paradox of arrival...