The old house on the hill sits empty
its still structure a thousand tongues of silence...

somewhere deep under
there’s a poet in me...

where is the need to rake the fire?
the flames never wither...

after I journey
life's melancholic ocean...

First rain...
Ink bleeding through the cracks of sky...

why do you ache
in heavy strokes of despair...

there’s a surging
under her skin...

First rain, first look, first time my name
became softer in your mouth...

I surrender myself
to the ethereal dance and sway...

twilight fades
into the cavernous wind-kissed sky...

you come
with sudden rain...