i will remain speechless, i am speechless. the only way i show these pains and scars that reside deep. so deep it gets tough to swallow, and the first thing that i can think of is learning to lash out and hate someone. or hate myself for something ive done to ensue loving my life. in the fragile places of me i become weaker and learn to build walls around me. i was king. i was a giant on the walls of jericho and now i bow my head in refuse's to see the faces of any. i was a prince. and now with water and bread i will live.
with the sacred of silence i risk the balance of my entire nitch to live livelier than the ones that live among the gin. a grin i lose and wage to gain and eyes that sue as they faint and detain but win my gamble at a smile again a choice of smoke and i partake in sin. but i will not boast just let me anebriate  and take that strong drink until i am wasted drunken until God pity me and lead me and send be angels to aid.

i lost her by the wine press
where the vine grows and the foxes are troublesome
she was like the morning droplets in the green of the earth
my reasons for producing fruits
the labor of my fingers and the fruits of that labor
the melody of the birds the rhythm in which the clouds rained
the finality of my smile the reason in which i thunk on the future
and so we made love against the wine press in kisses and laughter
in short silences and silent happenings between us we made love
but she was called away from our arrangement our secret had been left alone
with me alone and i longed for her lungs to breathe her blessed presence
her laugh that stopped all indulgence in what was surrounding me for my eyes had been fixed
for have i misplaced my pearls no rather my soul my hope in what i die
also in what i would live for. for now this day the earth floods with my voice and the forsaken reply of another. the sad man in me now new in every thought of
her that re abounds this heart to cleave and cleave and cleave it shall until my salvation from God turn my head i have new love better wine then man
i thirst of lovers wine i hunger for the milk of heaven. after then i realize now that she was the key in which the doors are open to see what would lead me to explore what is more than eyes and soul's expectations. a new love that is indeed pure. oh but her eyes oh but heaven's gaze. with her i would amount to but only glory that doubles as our rags to wrap one flesh we would've been one
but then that would have left no choice but to be separated by that which is death. all the wonderful things about the stars that burn for ever and we share a place in our would tombs decaying our bodies oh but if i were to leave her now and return with the gospel of Christ we could live eternally and my love would be ever present all the more
i dance in my thoughts because i sat in regret
it was divine the plan to win her back only this time not for me but for the love of God. and now i will search for her at her mothers home, life now different and not so young and adolescent.

Don't worry... When the tears start to fall down your cheeks from your eyes I feel you. Unlike the betrayal that stays personal to you. I still feel you like fresh new wounds like a knife that cuts. Straight into the flesh so that its piecing cuts. Right into the heart where there are all those arteries so that it bleeds. My empathy for a buck. Budded on and your pain with no restitution like a buyer who buys as if but to only become what an advocate is turning to agree with a judge. You swelling of anger in full blossom because of comparison futile like a terrible storm. I can only be at a loss for words while you stay abandoned lost at sea. We will never see the hurts. But I can have my pity for you and hide it so well. So you can never say don't pity you. A generous offer for two arms to hug you but you scream don't touch me. I can say sadly too I remember not wanting to be touched. But how shameful I admit I offer hand me down smiles and will only nod in a failure to wit affirmation. But you were right when you held your head up high. I will never know violation. Remorse in my eyes as the winds blows every single moment in the measurements of time to the rhythm of the same words. Seemingly to say move on. But we only live day by day and you will suffer it with your eyes open in every minute. The shadows that lurk like a threat to not sleep safe. If there could be healing in memory I would suggest you stay locked away and hidden in a ocean of nostalgia and never want to be seen or heard of again. But you have your home where you like to rest in relying on certain impulse and there are you're own wolves and lions in your den and you stay safer in knowing you could **** for a living once of tears if cause by a miracle. Or you could protect everything dear unanswered question to unasked for prayers. Because you could've had what you first prayed for from when you were very young. A perfect life and a dream but now circumstances are the cliche we receive for you and nervousness as our system for relief after excuses. I mask my pain in trying to seem intelligent with throw away liquor I come to hope to be weak enough to drink everyday. So you find your grip onto something worth it to spend your time and attention on and never let go. Just know that everything ugly in this world at some points vanish and there will be another dawn.

As I sit on stairs that don't belong to me. I stare half way at the clouds and look for answers surrounded by buildings... A few church's and some houses. I raise my hands up just high enough so that I could read my palm like I reading them to prophesy to myself and openly tell my future to myself. As if my blood and my veins could tell me while their coursing through and through I was born not illegitimate and raised by a star. God found time to look at me and Im reminded Angels don't have off days... But I do. Days off to ponder and recite rehearse line by line and even the sounds the look and my own motivations and their appeal. And I am guilty. But I am guiltless of them all. All my aspirations flew away. But they come soaring backward. An I found time to believe in the notion that humans are born with wing bore into their backs and do dream dreams and carry out a purpose heavier than the majority can imagine. More positive and beautiful you can't possible believe that anyone could get that close to its glory. And I find sighs in-between my gasping a hobby inside my hoping and words that could be turned into silver around my future family all off them and even the ones that held me. I cast lots to God and all my riches because I am poor poorly and sworn by division and my prayers hurt to utter but to pray my first and last decision. There are no glorious words my mouth has spoken even in my begging. But I found blood and bones and skin and finger prints are my maps to resolution to the tangible quiet tales of I can find a journey in my imagining. The wind blows knock on these doors if only the sun would come crashing into my lamp or candles holder so I could see more i am only as bold as the reason to conclude with a brightness. My wit shapes the conquest my heart beats for in pace but still beats because I could only assume because I have yet to learn patience. And I will as I continue panting... Useless eyes of mine don't pursue to go on wanting. Unless you repent and know what it looks like to comfortably be humbly a name in the book of greater men. Yet king David sinned I am more than just a stone to be tossed into an open pond from opened palms. With guess's so full of assumptions to do away with. Call me star formed from the first last born and not from the riddles of dust we all enjoy getting rid of. I meant to mean the purest things but dance around like fools do. Or maybe I am on the brink of sanity when I do realize we and everything around me in this life as far as the eye can see is all vanity.

A thousand stories I never read and no one would ever read. With a writer for ever one taken by the ocean sea so I... With every current a million waves that crash if ever we could count them all. Gone. With the time. Gone with the tide. No moon that glows off the pages so that the last light could mourn them. To the sea with assuring forever gone. Have you ever felt as easily gone with the current of a breeze. Well my longevity seems wasted and open doors I've seen that they are only visible if you can see where no one can but God. If you can see the invisible. Shorelines to chase back the only window to my past and its desired much more than anyone person can note for themselves. If only to take sure steps toward what it is i dont want that would leave me numb feeling and then I'd take away the scars too. To move my hands like constellations over the sky. I would retire old feelings some and rehearse my words better and dot my i's. as they say as to not forget. There's a thousand writers I aim to read. With tired hands and No way back from holding secrets of the divine. The sea is bastardly sometimes. Or maybe the frailty of us in fear and the oceans are our account in tears. As humanity searchs we rehearse the mass of us. The forgotten hurt ones leaves to the grave and the rest in smiles. Lets forget and pray and not panic. The Fallen of us will remember the scars and shame. we put them there. On paper. On paper. In Ink and pencil. If they could only stay on paper as journalist hoaxes. But theres an article for small percentages of ghost seen ones and ones that won't live until the morning. And we won't have to know. Because tides change and so does times. We hide behind the mask