The Essence of Poetry.

Quintessence Of Life.

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Love is fallen leaves in autumns life,
And art is a dream of work and rubbed knuckles on kitchen walls,

I am alongside the beaches of pure duality with schools and cars racing by,

I am a failure of the living which works
with the English society of always giving up,
I am the coldest purity of a nihilistic being surrounded by dimmed lights,

We understand humans conditions are blazing through to a broken collarbone or heart,
With bars and vodka on the icy roads of loneliness you have nothing less to lose,
And the senseless violence of purest relationships only intimidate the living,

So we sit back,
in a rainstorm of guys on their motorbikes and women with pleasures of stumbling through moments of distant memories,

For I am not a good lady but a searching soul.

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