War

The streets vomit violence,
and propaganda spews poison.  
The will to survive
is stabbed with rage, scheme, and debauchery.

Crimson pours at the other side of the sky.

The Girl Who Loves Rain

You are my reality,
You are my every living breath,
You are my sleep, you are my dream.

You are my addiction,
You are my breathlessness,
You are my zen, you are my bliss.

You are my mirror,
You are my conscience,
You are my madness, you are my sensibility.

You are my fuel,
You are my instinct,
You are the flame, and all the elements.

You are my ego,
You are my pride,
You are the confession that expels the shame.

You are my rage, you are my agony;
You are the hand that leads me to faith,
You are the scent that drives my passion.

You are my push,
You are my delight,
You are my art, you are my colors.

You are my roots, you are my wings,
You are my thirst, you are the ocean,
You are the cause, you are the consequence.

You are my philosophy,
You are my ambiguity,
You are my absolute.  

In life - we are the dreamers, the wanderers, and the possessed.
In death - we are eternity.