I have been licking the cream off
The nothing I was forced to cook from the book I bought.
I am Charles Bukowski waiting to rupture,
And tumble into forces of uncontrolled madness.
I dinge into fleeting, changing rooms
And become pages of yellowing, worm-books.
I write my own obituaries, each for a different
Person I have lived.
I make love twice every week,
And keep a count of how many times
He calls out someone else’s name.
I caution into keeping everything beautiful to myself.
I cup my hands and keep passion in my hidden chest,
And lock my doors with the only key there is.
I dine alone, I read in hushed whispers over single-serving thoughts.
And sleep where no one can put an arm around my waist,
And undulate the black-flavoured dreams I so carefully reared.
There is only one victory,
There is only one woman in the world.
It is I. It is I. It is I.
I love the gap between your teeth
And the dimple on your cheek.
I love the way you touch my hair
And the way you kiss is fair.
I love it when you say my name
You say it with passion then , I'm tamed.
I love the way you hold my hand
It makes me feel I'm the only one.
Your caress makes me shiver,
Your smile makes me weak.
The list may be short so far
But I have a lifetime to discover coz' we'll never be apart.
Sinking and sinking
I question my dreaming
The constellations swallow me
Suddenly I am nothing, everything
Everyone relies on me
My fingers pinch the sun
Drag it to the one
I bring the dawn
Yet thrive in the night
Falling and falling
I ponder my longing
To fall from the sky
From so mighty high
Wonder when I hit the ground
If it will make a sound?
All I feel is emptiness
All I feel is desolate
Arms out to catch myself
Lingering on your last breath
All I feel is worthless
All I feel is emptiness
Crashing and crashing
I embrace the fall
I kiss the ground with my body
and wait for my soul
Will it evacuate the emptiness?
Does it even exist?
Soaring and soaring
My mind is
And it lingers
On every moment I hated you
Can't nobody hate you like I do
I hope you feel guilty
As my world is closing in
Yet the commotion around me isn't sinking in
I can hear the whispers
Calling in the night
Tempting me to do
What I think I might
Breathe and breathe
I attempt to, but do not strive to
Death is not my fear
That would be you being near
Don't touch me
Someone does, checks for pulse
But I am already flying
I shoot into the sky, back up, arms out
Im crying out
Reaching, grasping, failing
To touch the body I once inhabited
I know I was not meant to be
So why do I feel sadly?
The hearts content
I say that dont please her
Happiness is on her face
As the man greets her
His voice is just dance, just colors
On an empty canvas
A bit of something inside
A little of me, a little of her
I am the demon
The soul whisperer
The one who tells her to do it
Dancing and dancing
My demon whispers to him but I still move
Who is in control?
Who holds the ropes?
I dont think I can save myself
I'm drowning here please
Digging and digging
My demon knows it all
Her silky, snaky voice surrounds everything
I am suffocating
Although I am already dead
I shall live forever with her in my head
Coffee, thou staple diet
of me who strives to be a poet
release me from the weariness of my mind
let me within me a gem find
Let me be aided by you
But let me not be addicted to you.
Let me sleep in spite of you
And to my passion forever be true
Coffee, thou lubricant
To a weary mind
Let this be my cant
And creativity in me find
As I sip that cup’
That wakes me up
My dear coffee…
Why do you so fuck me up…
I'm the one who falls for heavenly eyes
who likes a slice of poisoned cherry pie
constantly seeking the one for me
I always play with the devil's key
deadly and wonderful
that's what you are
you make me love drunk
I see stars
chemistry is electric
the passion in bed
seems like magic
or maybe a trick
to make me weak
as you poison my mind
Infatuated with thoughts of you
feeding me lies but I still want more
I wonder if you love me too
even if you don't, I still want to score
because you're the drug I need
the kind of excitement I seek
havent felt this high in a while
its like depressed versions of the self keep cramping my style,
obviously that mind stays fixated on the dial..
talking about time, i can honestly say mary j not hindering but opening my mind
meditation in its prime like Marcus, consider me the realist Aurelius
consumed with the whole, but thinking about the considerate
how do you get to the point of knowing, some would call it settling (in another light)
I ask myself is this to settle or could this be complacency.
What about a new form of dedication; to break free from that of the every day is one thing, but to alter a potential path is another
With and end goal of succeed, and a beginning of mere attempt. I don't believe in an impossible
a thought, a drive, a passion and more importantly a conviction is not a tangible object.
Therefore it cannot be labeled impossible...
...it only has the potential to be possible.
His steps do not seem so heavy
As you trail behind him
With interest, and jealousy
This is a man with a purpose
Perhaps in a rush to see his wife
Or catch a train to the concert
His stride screams passion
Life force clearly demonstrated with every strike of the pavement
Her steps come so swift
As you watch her drift and weave through the crowds
Almost as if she was dancing
So light on her feet
She flits from place, to place
Like a butterfly
Carefree and beautiful
Happily experiencing the world
Your steps? Heavy and plodding
Your feet drag as you will yourself on the next stop
No desire in you
Just an overwhelming since of apathy
Slowly shoving you along
Cast adrift in the sea, with no destination
And no real thoughts in your mind
Just a dull jealousy, for the happier feet
The sound of passion
Proclaims to the sky sweet words of love
The moon knows the whispers of my lips
Escaping the night
Dancing in my skin
Fall away from my body, face, and touch
Hands that hear me to sleep
Balance my tears on your fingertips
Holding the truth in this lost light
Preserving my wrongs
We have good times and bad
But there's no reason to be sad
We have each other
Love stronger than a mothers
We love to keep
Not date and sleep
You are the one
To show me fun
To show me love
Love sent from above
My passion is you
And has always been you
You are my first
You are my last
So love me now
Forget the past
Give thanks to god
Don't think that it's odd
That your still alive
Through your actions and lies
Through the corruption
Through the unfaithfulness
He kept you alive
Not for your mother
Not for your school
Not for your pride
But for me
I could have left
Many many times
But I stayed
Not for sex
Not because of a happy ending
But simply because I love you
And god loves you
This isn't a honeymoon phase
This is true love
This is our intertwined souls
This is us
Why do we have a sick obsession with fleeting encounters
We are infatuated with quick passions
We brush the surface of interaction
We brush lips
We brush hands
We brush lives.
We never press the surface
We never press our passions
We need to press our lips
We need to press our ambitions
We need to press our hands
We need to press our lives into symbiosis.
We are scared for what happens are the blissful, brief, mysterious moment
We do not wish to know what happens once the surface is broken
We fear rejection.
We err to safety- to minimal contact- minimal exposure- minimal risk
Our fragile continence’s are limiting our life- our passion- our love.
Turn down the offer for fleeting life, fleeting passion, fleeting love.
Why merely brush life’s surface?
Dare to press deeper- life has more to offer than mitigated risk and passing romances.