Muffled hats we flaunt,
Parading exquisitely
Decorated lies.


Ego / To Reach Perfection

If it’s obvious to me,
It will be obvious to all,
So it needs to go much further
Than where it is right now.
I can’t express myself,
But the better version of myself,
Who I require myself to be.
But I can’t figure her out.
There’s always so much pressure
Around her, constricting, containing,
All that should appear.
Mostly, there’s nothing there
But stern self-preoccupation.


Sapphire and viridian
Depths of ocean call to me.
She’s the known survivor
Of the one she used to be.

What she was was everything,
The sky and earth and oceans true,
The love and fear and all of it.
She is.
She was.
What is she now?

She lost it all, but she is still,
Though does not seem to know.
The oceans and the waves are there,
The glow, the blue, the flow,
The depths of darkness, light and shade,
The rumbles of her soul.

The girl who lived and lives on still,
In oceans soft and cold.
They call her Lucifaria.
She’s all but does not know.