typographic portraits


gold, all that glitters is gold.
you’re goh, you’re golden.
old is goh, old is gold.


If anyone wishes to come after me,
he must 
deny himself and take up his
cross daily and follow me.”
(Luke 9:23)


my mind is like the waves
tossing and turbulent
back and forth it goes
swallowing some vessels
keep afloat aplenty more.


life has always a way
to rip and tear you up
till your stuffings fall out
and you’re reduced to
a walking torn mess.


i will my passion
to consume me
to feed the constant
constant flickering flame

yet there are days
where life is too much
so great the flame
that i have nothing more
to render the flame to burn on.


mouldy as i am
a time bomb ticking
as dust i was made of
i am slowly disintegrating
and to dust i shall return to.

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