A thousand years ago as I recall
my life was ever easy and carefree;
today as I crawl slowly up the wall
I wonder can this imbecile be me?
I’m in a spin, or else out of my tree
still nothing seems to work the way it ought;
my insecurity is plain to see
since every single nerve is frayed and fraught.

Is there an answer to the questions brought
into some kind of focus now and then?
The war within my mind has been hard fought
yet I’m retreating unbowed to my den.

Honey-coated words
and empty praises
will only make me blind
to the turns and phrases.

I don't need
a mountain of flattery
to hide the holes
in the fabric of my poetry.

I long to mend them
with wisdom from friends
who are willing to teach,
to see my lacking reach its end.

If you wish to know
The depth of this person's heart,
Allow this person
To pour you a cup of tea.
Now, with this meager talent,
I shall play you a tune
And accompany it with a song.

"In the farthest courtyard of the manor
A madam is combing her hair
In a room illuminated
By a candle light -
Her face a flower,
Lips sweet cherry,
Hair draped like a willow.
The flame flicks.
Her eyes show a gleam.
With a smile she looks towards the door -
Just a gust of wind.

You are told that at
6:60pm you will be able
to do anything! There
would be no more laws,
no more newton's laws,
no more anything that you
are always told that you cant
do. It's like the purge but with
magic.

It turns 6:00 and you start to
stare at the clock. You think
about what place you will rob,
what you will get, and where
you would fly after. It turns 6:30
and you get excited. only 30
minutes' you told yourself.