convince me that Im not dead yet

tell me in portraits scribbled on manuscripts

paint it with your laranyx

as you scream out what couldnt entrench

I'am a vision

one you havent hammered out yet

begot by the feelings of tremors & retrospects

a broken heart so filled with contempt

you'll find me hanging by a picture above your bed

you can dream of me as that man or whatever Ive been lead too

as for now this heart is dead too

I just need to be fed...drink some coffee too

who knows?

I could be in brooklyn by afternoon

but that would only provide proof

that exactly whom we are we were destined to behoove

in my eyes I see the sweltering heat

the heart which beats

and the chariot whom leads...

not a damn truth follows me...I am a product of what I conceive

your heart is a cathedral

mine is a fort

youre so willing,honest & open

I'am nothing but walls & courts

judge me lest he be judged

awake in the frozen food aisle

the only thing I could convey

was trust.