Diego Rivera & some of my poetry       the last petal     my last wish it lies within you i can see your sweet lips crimson with a slight bit of black you walk through my dreams nothing like a stranger flowing through going through i can never see your face but i know your it my last wish and the last petal on this flower     date unknown             thirst     the desert highway looks the same this time of night endless only forward thinking reverie wandering with out passion searching for nothing only driving driving on the star less sky it's almost like a tunnel except the universe is the thing that's surrounding me   driving   i miss her i always will she was my only reason   but now i'm just driving searching for nothing in hope it might be home   driving   maybe there's someone else out there but now i'm just driving on a road that never seems to end   date unknown           An Angels Whisper     i hear them whispering secrets they know i can't stay awake much longer that's why they must keep up their strength but just sitting here in this industrial rain tears of communism i feel their lies echoing the chambers that children once played in of the tree sought for to climb to rest under to feel the roots dying under the earth in some urban life form of a decaying society that takes in meaningless flesh fucks it's brains out leaves them lying in the gutter those sweet angels whisper to me of my life dying of a wake worth seeing watching the faces grim with pleasure facing everything they wanted to now that everything is lifeless     7-14-98             Restless Dreams       turning in constant anguish a sultry midnight creeping upon the city drapes fluttering from a cycled air mixing the tension of phantoms with demons sitting under streetlights flickering neon twitching every time the thunder roars 2:06 am one soul wonders bellow hunched in misery sweltering beneath layers of guilt with a quarter moon a sliver in the sky all is silent in a city of guilt trying to sleep away dreams     7-14-98         Amongst the Trees     whispering conspiring amongst each other in hope for their own freedom around a camp fire the chill of winter making their words visible to all with murderous eyes watching waiting for one to slip in their own words to catch them and kill them   in hope of freedom   one man sits laughing to himself watching the sun rise in a furry warming himself in the cold blood sitting there dying watching the circular fire climb peaks that he'll never escape laughing knowing he won   to be able to watch himself die and knowing his words will be the last spoken his only will reflect off a valley and enter into himself words never heard except in his dying grasp   he won   his own defeat   12-1-98