whistle of the isle

calls all the burden stuck 

on my bruised shoulders and back ©


Third Time

twelve thousand miles ‘part

bound to meet again with less

crowd and empty words ©


quiet on a balc’ny

where you fired your faultless shot 

straight to my veins; hard

venom’s your love that haunted

every single blood in my core ©


iced coffee, white lies

the truth ain’t gonna be real

words coated with bombs

escape from the tomb of thy

soul that’s studded with dark holes ©