Hollow

If guilt was a tree
it spread its roots in me,
And my mind clutches at
The darkness it feeds.
There is no daylight that seeps
In this forest of dead bleeding
Branches of suicides.
This hell of mind forged manacles
Which shakes and spreads its din
through eternal night,
Hungry for more pain
Born from dry, cracked mouths.

Sylvia

A storm brewed in your mind
Swivelling wild branches of thought,
Shook the blue black eyelids
of sleep robbed eyes.
A dwindling drizzle of regret
Trickled like icicles that hung out of the
Misty red phone booth glass pane,
Where you leaned like a broken dove
rests its hurt wing on the ground,
Hobbling in pain.
All calls for help or love long lost
Went unanswered that night;
It was the wind that knocked instead,
Bludgeoned the doors to be let in
And sealed the openings in its wake.

Parting sorrow

Do not say goodbye
All goodbyes are lies,
Uttered in moments of strength
Which crumble in the eddy of memories
Surfacing in trying times
To rock the boat or bury you
In siren rush of sadness.
There are no closed doors
In this valley of shades,
No sleep to be found in between
Torn insect wing eyelids.
You must live it all over
The dull nagging pain
Of loss at whatever time.

Stronger

Smiles cut deeper than any knives,
Mirth is stronger than death,
The breath of spring melts winter snow,
Rich grasses clothe the graves.

Hearts that wander never true,
Wreak much harm and troubles new,
Moon may drown and stars bleed out
Till traitor's heart can slake its thirst.

Hope

Hope is a vice stronger
Than the bony grip of time.
Death conquers us all,
Bringing worlds to dust,
But hope lives on like
A mythical vampire brood,
Lurking in shades of despair,
Mass killing and gas chamber