The cold bottle

The young man's best friend

It numbs the aching everywhere,

mostly in the soul.

Working wonders on the nerves

Celebrating results of a long day

Aiming for the moon shooting to miss

No Time

Grey high clouds pour down.

Cracking dams, flooding streams.

Tomorrow awaits no one.

Overwhelmed walls break;

and all hell sets loose.

There will be blood

When you drift with the wind;

Swaying the deep rooted tree by the river.

The seeds of love drift with you;

As crooked branches lust after sunlight.

Shame

The man in the room,

waited call never came.

Shadows for prisoners of life.

Flames to engulf roses, 

an end of a transformation.