Never shall I wade,
Never shall I slip.
  
Into the depths,
Into the ooze.

Into the warm anesthetic flow of self ingratiation,
of fetid tumescent narcissism.

Nor shall I venture into the arenas;
Into those meat-rending chambers of razor- tongued, blunt- brained image brokers.
Rather that the screeching, grunting warthogs and  jackals of the underworld
should feast upon my stinking flesh.

I took you out of notebooks, so that my heart could heal. Had to stomach the reality, that you were never real. 

Pens once lost on pages, now crinckled on the table. Happily ever after, just a twisted fable. 

Erasing you from my soul, burned history marked with pen. So that I may forget my past, and attempt to begin again. 

I scribbled out old verses, I had yet to complete. Leaving behind our memories, ruin laying at my feet. 

What once was love filled margins, with cursive bent askew. Only to find that with time, my poetry is tainted with the poison of you.

You're a palatial asylum and a tumultuous storm,
An immortal voice like the raspy gale,
That lies next to me amidst the dappled grass;
I am not ignorant of your baneful presence.
If I navigated by the envious stars,
I would have immediately cut you off.
I lose myself everyday as I'm deafened by your icy anti-lullabies.

You’re no Harley Quinn
But you romanticize mental illness
Like a comic book villain-
It’s comedically tragic
To play with the full deck
Devoid the Joker

The worst part about mental health
Isn’t keeping it a secret
It’s just the revolution glamorized
To sell you more ****;

If you're inspired you walk in the sun's light
Why be a mere flickering candle to another
For if the sun's not seen, sight's lacking not light
And even in the darkest night, the moon shines
But truly the consuming sun burns within
seen only with eyes not of flesh
For even the blind in the deepest depths see

It seems like I'm a genius when I'm searching and finding answers so that I can figure out problems.
Also, when I'm asking questions it feels this way.
But when I'm pondering The Mystery I always feel inadequate.
When I'm trying to skim my mind for a metaphor for an unknown part of the universe, it is like my imagination has to solve for both X and Y.

I’ll bloom in spring
Alongside the Californian hills.
When the rain paints
The terrain green
With speckled white wildflowers,
I’ll tiptoe on sunlight
to touch the sky.
I’ll be the brightest star
They’ve yet to discover.
Shooting, shining, falling,
And wished upon.
Dry land, crispy and brown
Underneath my feet on
A winter night.

I need to forgive myself,
Then only I can forgive you.
I need to love myself,
Then only I can love you.

If I could,
I would take myself far.
Far from me,
And close to you.

If I could,
I would erase myself,
And become you,
All of you.

But for now,
The need for I is greater than the need for than us,
The need for skin greater than the need for love.

If you could, would you wait?
I wish I could tell you when.

If I knew my body,
You would know mine.
If I knew my mind,
You would know mine.

But for now, let me dwell,
In this realm of unknown.
If I settle down somewhere,
I will let you know

She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."

there is a well of sorrow
so deep
it cannot be articulated with tears
an ache
so fierce
it consumes you
until all that you perceive
is all that you have lost

Isn’t it funny,
The happiness we pretend to have
Is the very thing
Holding us back from living.

In Soviet Russia,

Consequence face YOU.

You Belong to Me
All the colors belong to my beloved
All the forms are of my love
There are flowers all around to bid
They are all from spring for my dove
Everyone says he is in me
All of these are definitely true
He is in my soul like a sea
She remains for ever but mine
Whenever you have to come, to go
In life you are definitely mine
And when I am no more to flow
All the roads are to my shrine
Colonel Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright March 2021 Love is love

“Falling in love” is a contradiction in itself, because in love there is only the rising, the ascending, not the falling.
You can not fall in love, but rather, rise.

there are two types of sadness

there’s the kind of sadness
we ignore and
try to get rid of it
by finding new things to do
or we find someone to talk to
by blatantly avoiding any type of conversation
about feeling sad
about having any feelings at all
and then there’s that kind of sadness
that takes over
and it consumes any activity we do
we know it’s there
and there’s no possible way to avoid it
so we feed it exactly what it wants
it craves the sad music
it craves the isolation
it craves the anxiousness
and the sadness comes storming in
it has no manners
here we are calling sadness, an “it”
when all it is
is a feeling
that most people
call home

have got some bars
towards "Electronic Arts"
once I found out
you shut a game down
I went nuts as I lost my cars
several hours on visualizing of which were spent
thanks for all the time wasted
as I don't even have pics of them
awesome, amazing!
a kind of mood to dump on you
a cargo full of number 2
guess you've already figured out
what game this is about
it's "NFS: W"

Pay attention - WIND DIRECTION

you confirmed all of my horrors
when you said you can't touch me sober

Introduce me to all of your demons
Maybe they were once my acquaintances
Let me know of the bad news first
Then nevermind the good ones
Break my heart
Rip off all what's left
And don't ever try to mend it
Take everything that you'll find
I won't ask for anything in return
Because I'm okay with it
Wound what's almost healed
Let it bleed
Let me bleed for you
Leave a scar
And become my permanent mark.

Children usually follow example more than any advice...so try and be the example for them.

My thoughts are stuck in my pencil,
And the paper refuses to help.

It's 11:11
and for the first time
after a very long time
I'm wishing for myself
and not for you

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.