you'll only understand them if you look through the lens.
they make through sense,
you'll need to cross the fence.
but you ain't winning a pence.

just park your Mercedes Benz,
grab your book and your pen.
no pen, then get a sword that writes,
I warn you not to use it for any fights.

get your brain to do push-ups,
tighten the ***** in your brain.
but never refrain.
there are times you could go insane.
but you can continue in the lane.
dumb dudes think it's a bane.

but some just can't stop getting into it.
P-O-E-M is the name of the addictive thing.

I want to be with someone
Who physically can't take their eyes off me
So much so
That I can feel his gaze linger
In my peripheral vision
And when I catch him
In the the middle of his silent admiration
I can't help but blush
Because his unspoken reverence
Is so blatantly displayed
Across his face
With such potency
With no veil hiding his emotions
That I can't quite seem to comprehend
How it's all directed at me

This seemingly ancient machine dances in front of me.

Composed of sandstone and so unsoiled it’s beautiful.

Running under no power.

Under ultimately strict order yet so peaceful and free.

Upon its belt are people seemingly so familiar yet unidentifiable.

It’s belt spirals and twirls up from its darker origin.

It’s destination is unknown but seems an eternity away.

That length in time does not cause anxiety and I somehow maintain a sense of immense peace.

As it ascends, it’s path lightens in tone.

I am in the middle of the light and dark.

Looking upon a pillar of sandstone indescribably tall.

Atop  it in the center of the spiral at my eye level.


Seems to be a Greek goddess formed of gold with wings and a spear at ease.

The belt winds around in its spiral continuing its production of some sorts.

I do not fear the dark nor do I strive for the light.

From the middle as a spectator.

I feel unbearably safe in both spectrums light and dark.

To descend or ascend.

In the middle as a spectator.

I feel such a wave of love and warmth I am unable to describe. It was truly elegantly Devine.

And I am not one to call himself religious.

I feel such a sense of embrace and acceptance for an unknown subject, that I wish I could continue my slumber.

As it is really enlightening to be able to accept something so undeniable and absolute.

I want more of that feeling.

I don’t dream often, but how blissful this is.

I feel I am undeserving of such beauty and so grateful for it, even if my mind contrived it in my hibernation.

Then only blanketed in one sheet.

I am stripped away from this elegance I have done nothing to deserve the chance to observe.
Into a cold room, with the miasma of teen spirit and reality.