My body is not my body
It is a graveyard
of once colorful Soul.
I am but a Zombie
Berserk on Emotional Control.

I bleed to the Irony.
Yes I do.....
Indeed I do,
through my writings.
Writing from a quill.

Plucked from an Angel,
whom I killed
Long Ago....

-

Fifteen minutes to 3'o'clock
The devil wants to run amok.
As the night shines so bright,
the Wolf in me houls of might.

Will this curse be ever cured,
I just feel so insecure.
When will you come to me,
darling I yearn to lay peacefully.

-

At the graveyard shift I carry on.
Writing relentless, I weary on.

The silence is, mocking me.
The darkness is, watching me.

In my cell, I toss and turn
With these words I tend to burn.

The walls and celings are closing in.
As the time is caving in.

-

//karma & closure//

May be
we were so much same and sane,
to that unique self that we are.
You and I.
And our procrastination
seems to have united us.
In most insane ways.
I wish I could have told you,
this right away but,
I never will nor I can.
Karma has screwed our closure.

-

My graveyard shift brings out the worst in me
I sleep during the day, I have no life
I convince myself every night
There is no reason to fight
But my eyes don’t see my pain
They instruct my eyelids to close again & again.

Upon starting the shift, my heart complains
I try to console my heart
It doesn’t listen to me and starts beating hard
There are no witches, trust me no ghouls
In the meanwhile my ears hear howls.

It’s a city silly, werewolves only exist in movies
I tell my ears to stop playing sounds
But my ears are very creative, they hear more than just howls
Seems like my ears are attached to my mouth
Hearing sounds I understand, but on every sound my mouth goes foul.

I always thought it was made of steel
But I feel chills running down my spine.
I know the real culprit here
I know my brain works overtime.

-