17
The essence of my being is slipping from my skin
It’s vanishing into the cold refuge of darkness
my tongue is etched with the teeth that hold it still
what a poisonous addiction, your beauty envelops me
sweet misery your liquid eyes swim to the ocean.
You seduce the depths and reside in the bitter pitch of black.
My limbs are numb with the weights of your acquaintance
You silence my words
Though my mind erupts with chaos
This ground is broken
You are unstable.
These feet you made feeble revitalized
That heart you forced cold warms with the hopeful promise of an ambitious
Future
Isolation is forgotten with the burning presence of fear.
The salt of my changed spirit falls without the content of depression but for the joy of the rising sun
For the light of tomorrow is the accomplishment of
A life not yet lost.
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Dovakoda
Us poet-types are choosy with our words
It's hard for us to find our voices I think
We like our communication in a particular way
Breaking the rules of speech and writing
Care we do not because of the broken gates
Freed from our chains, we speak
of our minds, of our deaths,
Of our lives and all the rest
I call us poet-types to speak
To communicate in our strange way
for the passing of our days
To come together in support and make us
Make us love one another and support our emotions
Cradle the sadness we speak of
The natural sadness we found in our lost loves
Our lost lives that feel helpless forever and always
But stand tall we will, if we stand together.
My friend, My brother or sister, You and I are strong.
Love you I do. I promise that though your last life may be dead,
Life will start again, Life will be new.