I used to have a plant that I loved.
The ones before neglected and left it
alone in the dark. At the base, there are still scars
yet I stared in awe whenever I saw it.
It had pink flowers mixed with bits of blue,
with a slim, tall, and strong frame.
The *** was white with a round bottom,
with red spots exposed by the chipped paint.
I loved it so hard because I wanted it to thrive,
but maybe I did too much. Every plant is different.
There was already yellow at the ends;
I didn’t notice the overwatering.
It hurt to see the plant go even though
I gave it love, and I thought it was enough.

I am from a dreamland.
My great land was diverse yet so grand as
the food and words were never bland.
The hands were rich with bands and rands,
built from working the same ground upon which we stand.
I am from a home that once spanned
prosperity itself; such a lovely
thing was a gift to our health. The sands,
skies, and seas could even hold the Heavens.
The trees used to dance in the breeze with ease.
I am from a dwelling of past envy,
but not of a hating feeling,
in the purest form, this was just only beauty.
But I am from broken societies.

Our hearts were bled dry
as we were taken overseas.
We prayed, begged, cried why
ever so loudly, but it was in vain.
I am from a place where our veins
still course with a saddened passion,
as a lack of love is our new fashion.

With sorrow, I am still from a life of death,
as their malice has never left.
Yet they still set us so carelessly upon the trees;
despite our screams and pleas, we
become the strangest fruits you have ever seen.
We have no identity and we have no names.
yet they still set us so harshly upon the pyre;
the painful extermination of desire
is a freedomless and killing fire.
Even our look for love is seen as theft,
and sadly, I am from where they even have my last breath.

Hands holding onto her hips,
breaths bouncing with bliss,
we both crave just one more kiss.
Hands now on the door,
pouring out even from my pores,
we both look to adore.
I love her in my life,
but this feels like so much strife,
so I need to just let her go.
No, she’s not near anymore,
yet the water still flows,
my garden of unemployed roses still grows.
Any more guilt and I’ll hit the floor.

Why hold guilt, a better man sees chance.
I grab her waist, just hoping we dance.
It worked but, she's just looking for free lance.
I keep coming. Closing the distance.
For her, I’ll go the distance.
But why do I feel this shame?
She ended things so I’m not to blame.
But her ocean eyes still hold my flame,
so for love again should I change my aim?
My fear should be cooler,
my wish was to move her. Closer.
Just a bit closer. But I can’t reach forever.
I loved her so I can’t seem to forget her.
I just miss the safety in us being together.
Her warmth was enough and I never needed a sweater.
And this passion to love what I’ve seen,
seems like beams of an eternal dream. A racing bee
is to me, as a honey-laced flower is to she.
I’m stuck and falling even though the leaves are changing;
maybe I should move on and leave her to be.
But if you truly love, is it right to flee?

She’s no longer the source of my prayer,
she’s no longer holding most of my care.
And I swear that I couldn’t really bear
her wear and tear that wasn’t fair.

Now I race with haste to get some space
from her taste and her lively face
which is now just slightly laced with a trace
of my want for us to discase.
She’s hard to replace
but no longer can I chase
and keep pace with such a cold case.

My eyes are stained red;
not from crying again,
but by the taste of an herbal hope.
Perhaps it’s better off left unsaid,
but the smell of dread is left dead
by the piquant flame to which I tread.
My head floats like a ghost
from this sweet green and purple.
With tasteful lips in supply,
and a rolled joy high in my mind,
I’ve forgotten what it was like to cry.

My sanguine speech seems slurred.
And I’m not crying anymore;
a toast to the flame-filled water.
It makes facing my regrets easier,
and it’s so easy to disappear when she’s near.
I never want it to be like before,
even though sometimes I wake up poor
on the floor from pouring my pores
into just trying to forget her.
But for her adoration I no longer implore,
I instead explore for ore within the lore
of another woman’s valor.
Now the thought of the touch from a one-time lover
smothers my past desire for her fire.

The tangy taste of love lost
has faded over with hoarfrost.
Each weekend, I distend my intentions
to bend my wants, to be blunt,
to punt my fronts, as I tend
to ascend with commonly dazed women.
I can deny that I see guilt in the bliss
that is built on meaningless kisses.
I’m not digging dirt with these hoes,
and we know that the marks on their
necks aren’t from mosquitoes.
And our souls stay open when our knees fold.
And no matter how many potholes I explore,
I don’t feel ******* deplored,
I adore pouring out my core.

I am different now.
I think that I’ve changed for the better,
but I know that I won’t be tempest-tossed,
no matter the cost.

Yes, revenge is sweet and the beauty of karma matches your face.
However, why would I get even with someone
who wasn’t on my level in the first place?
I really mean it in the worst way.
I’ve held the damage in for a while but now I’ll say
everything without regret because you made me feel this way.
I forget your name on purpose every time that I pray.
You caused cascading waves to flow down my face
after you entered the fray. My sweet wishes were slain
by your scorpion-like sting as you turned out to be a snake.

I see your weak speech filled with might and probably.
I thought I was safe, yet you didn’t even fret to try me
and I trusted that you were behind me.
So it’s shocking when I’m falling,
to see your arms not trying to stop me
when you’re so used to catching bodies.

Never stop showing who you are.
Fear is what drives us, keeps us alive.
Emotions are our eternal star.

Sadness is something you should never keep too far,
understanding loss helps us strive;
never stop showing who you are.

Let the flames of your anger cause char.
Rage is human and should not be deprived,
emotions are our eternal star.

Desire to be greater in spite of scars,
lust for love and lust for life,
never stop showing who you are.

Joy is amazing and cleanses tar,
if your happiness dies, then it should be revived.
Emotions are our eternal star.

Do not let your emotions become your czar,
however, be true to yourself and try to thrive.
Never stop showing who you are;
emotions are our eternal star.

Does a black man’s life have a price?
Hopefully, you answer with of course not.
It is priceless. No sum of anything
can equal its worth. But some others say
of course not. The ones that seek to destroy
us, break us to the core, think that we have
no worth. Nothing to our names but
defamation and inflammation from
miserably myopic minds. We die so easily
to hate, to jealousy, to misunderstanding.

Our price is lower than zero when the cost
of freedom is so high. But not for us;
the cost is freedom for them. They need
to be free from jealousy and hate,
but they just can’t see how easy it can be
to be loving. No, the cost of a Noir Nature
is far too high. It burdens us with the pain
of our broken ancestry. It burdens them with
the fear of changing scenery.
But why does the key for me to be free
have such a costly fee?

We have no heroes; we are only zeros. No,
not even zeros because at least a zero has a place.
We don’t fit in, from elderly to infants, we simply
strain through sorrow for something bittersweet.
And it hurts with a biting sting of failure,
but not of our own. No, it is the failure
of ignorance and broken hearts.
There’s no one to truly hope or pray for us
as we are slowly strangled by those that seek
to destroy and break us to the core.
But why does the key for me to be free
have such a costly fee?

Where’s our true freedom?
We were once slaves to cruelty,
then we were set “free”. Free to toil under
the misery and apathy of a blinded, divided land.
We then struggled, clawed, begged just be
the same under the law, and through it all,
nothing has really changed.
But why does the key for me to be free
have such a costly fee?

But where’s our true freedom?
We still are set as windchimes in the streets,
we still are cast as fish amongst the seas,
we still are set ablaze from head to feet.
Why can’t we be truly free?
Why do they continue to ever so mistreat
us with sourceless anger? Why are we beat
and pleated into a lack of love that fleets
and flees with the fury of fleas? We ask, please,
to be seen, to freeze the agony, to show us mercy,
but they bleat like sheep, guaranteeing to **** our liberty
with glee as they continue to freeze us as they please.
They screech and decree as ugly as beastly banshees
when all we wanted was peaceful equality.
But why does the key for me to be free
have such a costly fee?

I’m enslaved although I’m brave.
Pressures force my mind to cave,
in spite of my cravings to save
my slaving eyes from a shallow grave.

Bravery lies in the ability to not lie,
or deny reality, but to unshyly cry
in day or night. My eyes are bright lights as I
look to the sky and try to not die inside.
To be higher is to not look at danger and shy
from the fear of a freedomless failure. Braveness
is greatness; a courageous showing of patience.

It is the face of the heart’s race and pace
that is traced from a loving embrace of grace.
It is not famous or faithless, it is the safeness
to continue to another day. It is to sway, to stray,
to waver towards the unpaved way without fray.  
It is to walk on water no matter the weight, to say
that although we may be enslaved, we are brave.

I’m not remotely close to having control.
My fingers slip, but I don’t want to go down that hole.
Temptation at the tip of my nose
with her eyes opening up my soul.
My resolve is low, but I’m trying to make it last.
Sometimes in this race, I feel like I’m coming in last,
even though I stick to the goal, and I’m skating so fast.
I just wish to feel whole, but that’s evading my grasp.
It would be so easy to give up,
to lift up, the regret and hating the past.
Holding on is so hard, is this what
life leads to? The anger and grief bleeds through
my words, hurting him, her, and me too.
Is it sad to plead to the unknown when euphoria actually sees you
at your lowest? When you’re unheroic
and have never been stoic? When you’re unnoticed
yet devoted but you can’t keep focus
because you’ve lost all motive?
It’s sobering to deny the malice
but what if you’re too weak to avoid the chalice?
Will falling into euphoria break the chains on my talus?

These times have me feeling overextended
and looking for reprieve. I’m glad it’s over;
the tension was rocking my heart and knees.
A note to mention is your lack of healthy pleas.
I give when you want, but I have to earn what I need?
To you, it’s splendid just as long as I spend it
but that trend? I’ll end it. Greed gave you glee
when you saw an inch of green. Treachery made you flee
when I looked to clinch a guarantee. But that time has ended.

These times have me feeling overextended
and looking for your smile. It would hurt if it was over.
It’s gotten my attention that your distance feels hostile.
I hope your intention isn’t malicious or vile; was it worthwhile?
Even if the rainy sky descended and a fight blended into our remission,
I’ll still extend my hand for you to ascend because you're my friend.
But if my tribulations and trials weren’t enough to get your attention,
would you amend your ambition to keep us safe and hidden?
Safe and hidden from your lechery losing me at the party kitchen
because I can’t compete with the Mollys *******’ for a dickin’.
I’m prayin’, wishin’ for this to not be just another memory,
but you’re hatin’, trippin’ over the lies that you’re a different pedigree.
Maybe we’re both right, and the animosity should be suspended.
But for our strife and uncertainty, that time has ended.

These times have me feeling overextended
and looking for comfort. Sometimes it feels like it’s all over,
but I have hope because you’re the one I come for.
You can fall asleep in my arms again and I’d forget the dumb wars.
I’d cast away the imp ****** who implore for everything with nothing in store.
It would feel better than the smoke that makes my lungs roar,
but still not as great as your slight twitch, moan, and snore
that made me smile again and hate your front door.
We both want more, so why not have an encore
and let the time go on furthermore?

You always stay in my heart
and for living, it’s the best part.
I think of you first when every day starts.
Without you, everything tastes ****.
With you, everything looks like art.
From my heart, please never depart.

In a way, you always make my day.
With you, life is never gray.
I hope that this love never decays.
With you, my heart never delays,
so for us both, I pray.

Feeling like this is the epitome of living,
and everything looks like beauty to me.
Your eyes make me cry a sweet downpour;
electricity seems to seep from your touch,
I’ve never loved anything so much.
I don’t want anything else.
With you, I am my best self,
with absolutely perfect wealth.
The brightness in your smile
turns me ever so wild
and makes life so worthwhile.
Our kiss is the bliss for which I always wish.
Being with you is the greatest fun,
so to you, I will run and run and run.

In a way, you always make my day.
With you, life is never gray.
I hope that this love never decays.
With you, my heart never delays,
so for us both, I pray.

You stay in my eyes, giving me life.
Your sight erases my plight,
and builds me with such might.
I can’t get you out of my mind;
I see you always.
The color green gives me hope.
It charges me with a beaming envy
but in the best way.
I’m jealous of the Sun
because it gets to see you always.
I find myself listening to your music,
and I’m never sick of it. You’re the cure
for me and you’re just like Heaven.
Memories of you tremble my hands,
makes food taste unbland,
turns me into a brand-new man.

In a way, you always make my day.
With you, life is never gray.
I hope this love never decays.
With you, my heart never delays,
so for us both, I pray.

But somehow things changed.
My tears now run whenever I think about you.
I miss you more than ever, I still just want to
hold you in my arms. I know that at least.
Lately, I’ve been hurting more,
lately, I’ve been crying more.
Seeing green gives me envy
but not in a great way.

My eyes burn by your sight.
I want to cling to you again but I can’t.
I just want the pain to go away.
I’ve tried moving on, but I can’t.
No one else feels the same as you.
Nothing really feels the same.
Music doesn’t sound as good.
I feel slower, I feel like a failure,
I feel like nothing really matters anymore.
If love were enough, I could still reach you.

I want to change.
I want to be whatever you want me to,
even though I can’t. I shouldn’t.
But what is a passionate fire without ash?
What is a flight without fury?

In a way, I’ve never felt this way.
To me, black now feels gray.
My heart is full of decayed dismay,
how did we get astray?
Why do you feel so far away?

Seduction so smooth as lust takes over.
Sentiment has no place; they just want to stretch her.
Spreading out together like they’re on a stretcher,
no love, no romance, when they’re together.
They aren’t saints, but they love her holy water.
A scarlet fever burns within her.
Her lust insatiable and thirst everlasting;
a tempest storm of vehement luxuria and exhilarating ardor.
The zeal is unlimited, yet the love is lacking.
She sees crimson and the lines begin to blur.
At first, it was a rare, occasional thing,
now it’s all the time, changing desires of a personal fling.
I just pray that she prays while she’s down on her knees.
Her desire consumes her, as her life looks carmine,
she’s tongue and cheek with her tongue and cheeks.
Living a life of lechery as a little red corvette in the streets.
Her overactive ambition is amaranthine and not so amazing.
The redness has overtaken the blue,
she is now lost without a clue,
senseless with no one left to do,
while her ruddy heart doesn’t beat true.

Every knee bowed on our neck
even when we’re right our tongue will confess
just to stay breathing.
Snakes in the grass that we’ll tread and hex that lays seething,
fake bleeding, just as a reason to decay our meaning.
The rage is heating but their passion for us stays freezing.
What’s next? Modern slavery is them open-carrying
weapons that prosper and officers that foster beatings.
Their face red as a lobster sneaking on someone black just to accost her.
Blue is the color of mobsters that fed lead
to someone innocent; she bled dead in her own ******* bed.
We could be doctors, seeking to uplift with our waters but instead,
we’re razed to the ground, wasting away in a plot
as we rot! Yet we wrought nothing in their haze.
Our offenses aren’t grave but we dance with dismay to our graves.

Only liars deny the ambition to go fishing
for what they want. The craving, the need, the haunting desires
only places you on a self-destructive and burning pyre.
You yearn for more, twisting on a mission,
wishing for the glistening gold of what you’re owed.
To move, to improve, on your flaunts
for yourself is such an everlearning taunt of wealth.
Well, when your well doesn’t get any higher
and the Sun’s hell ceases to tire,
emptiness befells the commission and buyer.
You’d sire more just to gain more,
but wouldn’t look towards your neighbors implore?
You would even bore through foreign floors
until it's all missing. Toes tucked and turning,
mouth foaming, you're an overzealous fiend for more earnings.
Your hives don’t die and you keep twitching.
Your heart keeps spinning the lies through your sleek grinning
and only the drive to buy is what keeps you alive.

You’re pushed aside and crying on repeat
with hushed lies sliding on the beat
of your hearkened heart.
You deny and deny the need to eat
with the compulsion to not buy
into the greed disguised as art.
You condemn the hate but can’t see the fake
staring back when you gaze into the lake.

Suppressed, depressed, much stress
on my chest, missing my breaths.
I frown as I drown and I’ve lost my crown,
so while I fall down I seem like a clown.
I’m the problem that I need to face
and I’ve been going at a non-existent pace.
So when my heart breaks,
does it make a sound?

Above the surface, wrath lays with reality
and doves are displaced by calamity.
Blood in my mouth, thoughts sprayed with profanity,
hugging anger in sight, when I face my vanity.
Nudged by neglect, hoping to stray from insanity,
I look to bud into the tenets of humanity.

I commend those who resist the immense desire
to liberate their anger as a friendly fire,
but with wrath, I could mend my pain.
My eyes come into nothing of vain
as this disdain leaves my bane stained.

My words fell on the deaf ears of my peers,
so when the smoke clears, I’m free from fears.
The isolation doesn’t feel foreign
so why feel for him? Why peel for him
fruit when he has no labor yet whims?
I'll take my broken heart by the hems,
a heart that lives apart, with lights dimmed,
and make it harder without barter as I’m born again.

They set us so carelessly upon the trees;
despite our wails, screams, and pleas, we
become dying fruit for the fleas.
Institutionalized and criminalized, we live a life of fear.
They sneer, jeer at the sight of us at life’s rear.
Our plight against contempt makes for a militant man
as we just try to be as real as we can.
To them, our efforts are never enough,
for them, our pain is never enough.
We strive for equality, liberty, happiness, and life.
In turn, we receive hatred, anger, and strife.
Murdered and ***** and torn next to our loved ones.
In response, we give a passion greater than the Sun’s.
All of our lives, we have had to fight.
Striking back against their wrath, destroying their blight.

They set us so wrongly upon their boat;
after we are spent, we are set to float.
I wonder about real life,
“What does it feel like?”
Torment should not be equal to pigment,
and there is nothing to warrant such abhorrent torrents.
We are not equal and never have been the same.
When we speak out, we are silenced; liberty too tamed.
They set us so harshly upon the pyre;
the extermination of desire,
the death of liberty as a killing fire.

With tears of confusion stinging his eyes,
the boy asked his mother, “Why aren’t we the same?”
She looked lovingly at him and explained,
“We are all the same, even though we have a different frame.”
So then the question arises,
for the despair, who is to blame?
Should shame be on those who hate others just for being different?
Saddened are those who spent all of their time being so bent,
but why should my pigment be my torment?

Is this what life is supposed to be like?
Where riding your bike in the wrong area can get you a strike?
Out of line if you speak out,
about the discrimination, where the right words will cause a bout.
Our understanding seems frozen until we break out
of greed, corruption, prejudice, envy, and lying.
People dying, mothers crying, and violence because of nothing.
But anything could help when your life hangs by a string.
Strung along sheep cast their ignorance with the swing
of their crude weapons or hurtful exclaim
with intent to defame and purpose to maim.
I wonder if we really are the same?

All of life is dead and the Sun has set.
Wet is the battlefield with blood after the brawl.
Stenches of death and sweat from both sides,
divides and drenches the trenches.
Sounds echo eerily quiet;
quite loud and profound.
All is for naught, as the vultures of the President descend.

The celadon leader smiles as he looks upon his ****** empire.
His vicious hunger is never fulfilled and his smaragdine iniquity smothers.
He wants, no, needs more; a never-sated, rapacious desire.
A broken country built on the backs and deaths of others;
evermore he wants and he wants evermore.
An incessant life drowned in cupidity and submerged in green,
but he is never jaded. He is a ***** emerald without valor.
His unclean desire for money recklessly expands as a deep ravine.

Avarice trumps the morals,
while he spreads a pestilential malignancy through the air.
The sacred blood of innocents binds together his laurels.
But the need for greed is exponential and blinds him to his error.
The mindless masses amass themselves at his mere feet,
but his mere feats only sum to immense ignorance and hate.
As he continues to stand for nothing but hypocrisy,
and his sycophants continue to vacuously prate.
It is a lesson for us all as a warning for our souls.
Covetousness is a viridian plague with no cure.
He corrupts spirits and gains unrighteous power from the polls.
But he is no leader, he’s only a false savior siphoning from the poor.

I reach with outstretched hands towards
the tiers of a fading sky, with no words. And I
preach to myself to hate desperate plays.
I hide these tears by myself, dismayed
by my lack of worth. Oh, how it hurts...

To him, I flash for the flavor of friendship
feeling forever fine in my fleeting eyes.
Over him, I’ll get a grip and still trip
around the land just for his hand.
It doesn’t matter who is near,
with him, I have no fear and no tears.
My wishes are as hot glass
when he molds, he holds and folds
my prayers with his wants no matter how old.
Through everything I stay,
for these desperate plays.

To her, I head, head over heels
hoping her happiness hears my heart.
For her, I race to become better.
So gracefully, I craft an arrow to start
piercing the evils that set us apart.
I wade through brooks as a crook,
looking for how to fall deeper on her hook.
I lie, I cry, I die with her, parting
anything between us. We can never depart,
she is my restart, she is my art.
Her attention outpaces any meal,
it’s shocking as eels, that she kills,
steals, my hurt for sheer thrill with sheer will.
And yet she heals. She heals with watts
that work to change my energy so powerfully.
Through everything I stay,
for these desperate plays.

Ferocious hearts burning with love
and emotions swirling in a tempest of passion.
Your care is of the greatest compassion
with generosity freer than doves.
Desire builds with your every move;
hope becomes our entirety.

Your harmonious voice cures my anxiety
and makes my knees buckle by your glance.
I want to show you true romance.
Let’s groove until the night dies,
with our cares in the wind and the skies
smiling down upon our affection.
An intimate flurry showing our connection,
such splendor in our grace. So divine,
so alive, we dance and thrive, I feel alive.
To you, I stride to strive and vine
your beautiful body with mine;
my partner in life I did find.

So far and yet so close we seem
to be from the things that make us happy.
At times, our game-winning shot misses.
At times, our lovers leave us to just wishes.
Hurt, pain, and sorrow lays in our end
to a life without love or friend.
These feelings strangle and smother
our peace like the wrath of none other.

Repetition. From repeated reaches to resurgence,
to taking tyrannical triumph, to taking rejoice,
I repeatedly have nothing. Words of
“try again” and “get over it” reverberate in
my mind, rocking my resolve to sleep.
Rupturing results rips, tears through tiers of
my resilience, turning me to tears. They creep
into my dreams, upon my thrills, onto my choices,
inside my hopes, like ants in tents. With cruel intent,
every failure rends me so intense.

But how to respond?
If I show a lack of care by a loss,
“Maybe it wasn’t too serious”.
But if I reply with hurt and sadness,
“maybe you’re just overreacting”.
But only for so long can I just
“make the best out of a bad situation”.
How many times do I need to fail,
in order to succeed?
If I didn’t care so much, then
I wouldn’t hurt so much.
But what is a life lived so unlively?
Why am I wrong to make the most
of what I’m given? To wish, to hope
is seen as good ambition when it’s
a success, but when I fail then I overdid it?

Why do I love to dream
when I can barely sleep?
Under the surface, I wonder,
can I jump out the window?
May I make a leap of faith?

Within a dream, anything is mine.
New heights look divine with no limit,
hope arrives beautiful and I know it.
I’m remiss to sadness, and I’m glad this
will be as bliss as a young man’s first kiss is.
Life tastes of fine wine before I rise and shine.
I dream of a land where I have my last breath;
a place where my fears can suffer a coward’s death.
Gazing from the cliff, fords put their blossoms to bed
as the rivers expand with a hope so strong.
Blue turns red, with no regret, I get ahead
of my wrongs to write them in this song.
In this place, I face no disgrace, show my face,
I lack no faith, go at my own pace, and showcase.
Tables turned and now my dismay is prey
when my dreams turn my tomorrow into today.

Are you loyal to your dreams?
A life lived by its seams,
under the surface,
I strive to just dream.
Trust isn't what it seems
but hope hides the screams,
are you loyal to your dreams?

Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming
makes goals worth chasing.
Love locks lips and lies
in my eyes under the surface.
Daydreaming as soon as day breaks
I escape, I escape, I escape
and I’m not worth chasing.
I can’t hurt under the surface,
but do you know what your worth is?

Dreams can’t abandon me
so they make for the perfect lover.
I don’t want to wake up.
It’s not born from worn scorn,
it’s made from the summer’s embrace.

Are you loyal to your dreams?
A life lived by its seams,
under the surface,
we strive to just dream.
Trust isn't what it seems
but hope hides the screams,
are you loyal to your dreams?

I have to push aside your pride
because you did too much;
I can’t let you slide.
Timid and trying to hush,
I wanted to hide and deny
my despise. But despite the lies,
the spite and highs, you shy
and fly from what’s right.
I just want to go to sleep without crying.
You’re true and right while lying.
I hate what you do, my love for blue is dying.
You’re critter size but you criticize so I’m done buying
your trickery disguised as honesty. Stop trying.

As she saunters with beauty,
an awakening and arousing aroma arise in the air.
A harmonious combination composed of tropical islands
and Heaven’s love carries with her, attracting all around her.
Her cherubic long, brown hair reflects and shimmers
light with a powerful intensity.
She’s far too strong to deny.
Her divine fragrance coupled with her resplendent hair,
is only a small part of her wonderful persona,
that makes her the queen that she is to me.

I am entropy again
and it’s not the same.
My energy is falling daily,
things look dark, ouch,
I’m all over these days. Umbral
shadows dashing yet slowing my ways. Luminous
photons, in my eyes, positive, but accelerating
away so negative. Fingernails, chewed.
Random urges to *****, tasting for a pink hue.
If it’s a cool night, with my pills I’ll get physical.
Eyes on the inside bruised black and blue.
Confidence approaching zero, thirsty,
I’m feeling for clear shots.
Mind is dazed, I taste the craze, and can barely rhyme.
I’m all over myself, so I’m on nothing when I see
her creep out sometimes, taking my space
blocking the Sun. I’m sad, tempest-tossed,
old shades arise when she appears;
hurt, jealousy, anger whispering.
I cry from the inside, burning tears.
I’m locked within myself once more.
Who am I? Lost but not found.
I can’t take this any longer.
Why does she pick so late
to pixelate in my mind?
She lives as I die. I beg for mercy!
Frightening, so ******* frightening,
my happiness isn’t conserved, but why?
Hopes, laughs, peace, joy, love;
broken, tears, death, fury, darkness.
I can’t survive with this mentality,
I testify I can’t touch the sky.
Do they ever truly leave us alone?
She flies over my head,
please help me. Why?

Mustering courage, I stepped out my front door.
Awaiting a departure, my patience was poor;  
Your enticing eyes gleamed with gold.

I gazed upon your face, questioning my luck.

Beauty personified, you admired me back,
Elevating my pressure, I started to crack.

Your saunter carried such a passion in its wake,
Our eyes intertwined; happiness is its make.
Utopia is in our embracing, and it is ours to take.
Resting my head by yours, our affection was never fake.

Being connected with you is such bliss;
Other worlds are met with every kiss.
Your hand with mine, nothing’s better than this.
Forgetting any pain, my stress is remiss.
Roaming without you; a soul so amiss.
Inside my heart is you, with no abyss.
Ethereal is your beautiful eyes and lips.
Never in your presence will the Sun eclipse.
Daylight with you, Rachelle, is my eternal wish.

Such a double-edged sword is hankering;
lending way to most useful ambition
that gives inspiration to musicians.
It also can subvert our pure mindset;
corrupting our light so tragically,
as it sadly pits us against our own.
Envy is only evil when our tone
turns to tempered despise as our eyes set
upon those without any sense of debt.
We wish for positivity in life;
no stress, no hatred, no sadness, no strife.
Yet, without those joys, desires do beset
when we covet pleasures from each other,
peace and love, will our jealousy smother.

My eyes try to close
as tepid sweat stratifies on my clothes.
With cold feet and a hot head,
I struggle against the bed.
Although it comes to me rarely,
the tempest feeling of tingling insensitivity,
beautifully disgusting, is quite bittersweet.
The night should be simple,
yet it’s too brutal and holds me ungentle.
And so I pop pills like pimples
to give tranquility to my mental.

They’re not enough. It’s never enough.
One cup, just one since I’m already up.
One drink turns into two and I don’t feel rough.
But I feel...an implore for more. I wouldn’t bluff,
another gulp, another gulp, and I feel stuffed
interestingly enough. But I feel… handcuffed
with both pitiful pleasure and passionate pain,
the drinks are starting to drown my brain.

I fall down under the surface,
where the thunder can’t make me nervous.
Where I can’t sunder my purpose,
where I wonder what my worth is,
wearing wonder fiery as a furnace.
Hoping to plunder my brain’s service
with a hunger to recurve this
surly slumber of unbound defervesce.

These dreams beckon me to come play and see
a weightless joy, peace, even glee
without burden. But suddenly I only awake to see
complacency; ugly gluttony keeps me company.
My emotional darkness, despair, despondency,
countered by my own chaotic nepenthe,
gives me sad servitude disguised as lying liberty.
The turmoil in my thoughts twists, turns
like mazes as my mind mends, burns
deeper, deeper, deeper down.
Just to sleep, I turn into a clown,
holding a bee for honey as it stings me.

Baby lemme slide inside
at the midnight hour as our
skin glides so smooth on each other.
Take a ride, just get closer, don’t hide.
Your watermelon lips, sweeter than sugar; not sour.
Drown me please, for forever, not hours.
I love your taste. Tongue, up and down
to explore that place. Fingers, on your face
got me on the edge, but it’s not a race.
Hands, handling your waist with haste,
yet slow, yes slow, let’s slow down the pace.
You glow, whoa, shimmering unlike a crow.
You blow, I flow with snow that you can’t plow.
Color all in your cheeks,
us all over the sheets,
while I unfold your folds; let the passion increase.
Her rose is curling my toes;
such moonlight upon the garden.

Nothing really changed. It seemed so nice,
so fun, but in the end, it was the same.
We got to know each other, I extended my hand.
She took it, giving me hope. Smiles passing
between us, only lips between us, it felt good.
Whispers of more, promises, implores, exciting.
Perhaps it would be different this time. Hopefully.
The chance of rain was zero and I was my own hero.
Finally. But finally she had enough of me.
She loved glee and took it from me. My feelings...
were approaching zero even though I did her right.
I was left for giving her what she wanted;
I just couldn’t integrate myself in her life.
I’m not sure why,
but again and again, I find myself hurting from others.
But again I have my eyes to the sky,
looking for the bluest of colors.

I wear too many long sleeves,
and my eyes are just red from allergies.
I’m always somewhat full even though
the weight keeps dropping and my
stomach protests. I was going to stay in
anyways and that beer was just for the chili.
The weird smell in the air is just from the neighbors.
It’s just water in my bottle and that rattle
was just from some bath salts. I use those lighters
just for work, yes, I was just on the phone with my boss.
The music is loud just for the ambiance.
My face is just puffy in the mornings
and I was up late last night just playing some games.
Those fans are just because it’s hot up here
and that bag has just pens in it.

A bright Sun rose over the land with wonder,
as a warm breeze, without scald,
jostled emerald blades of grass that sharply,
yet softly whistled unlike thunder.
Jade grass covered the ground fully,
but it wasn’t jaded. No, it was captivating.
It was so simple, yet it was so lovely
for everything to come together so perfectly.
The clouds were of soft pillows; cozy
peace rested in their mere sight.
They almost seemed to float with grace
upon a clear blue sky; oh what a spectacular place!
The green grass met the sapphire sky with a kiss.
This uniting was bliss; it could inspire the remiss.
Here, there could never be an eclipse.
There was nothing amiss, no abyss, only happiness.
Blue waves quietly ebbed up the beach.
It was quite lovely to see its powerful reach;
what a beauty lies in the ability to beseech.
To reach, to breach the walls,
to teach is to bleach a fall with speech.
Hostility was not in the ocean’s movements,
as the azure water walked without fight.
The peach sands held fragile remnants
of a happy couple, with a joy of mints.
They left their remembrance and presence
upon the sands; the fresh prints of a loving dance.
The air was marked with the subtle hints
of a new, sweetly jovial fragrance.  
Birds of all kinds sang with a gathered passion;
a unified chorus of voices with a crescendo towards
the sky as a symphony so holy.
Such a wondrous horizon could call,
enthrall, even lords to its lovely sight.
How incredible, how amazing was this light.
It shined with no darkness; it was bright, pretty, sparkly.
This beautiful morning sang unlike a cacophony.
Only Heaven could rival its immaculate beauty.
It was an angelic sound with clever, heartfelt chords;
the Sun shone forwards forever.
This beautiful morning shone forever.

I want to do the impossible.
You matter so much to me,
so here are apologies in advance,
I know you’re sorry.
Since you’re happier alone, I want to see you go.
If I was him, I’d never let you go.
I’m sad without you though.
This is so confusing for me. I feel envy,
and I feel pathetic, and I feel angry,
and I feel like this hurts us both.
Our relationship lays six feet in the ground,
my heart hasn’t ceased to pound,
and I still want to make a sound.
Thoughts of anger, fear, lay inside clenched fists,
fists that go numb when I remember your kiss.
I’d do everything over again if it would give you bliss.
I’d never meet you if it would give you bliss.
Your words were a lance through my chest,
feeling like cardiac arrest, and yes I can attest
that even though my eyes are filled with detest,
that I still love you. I miss your blue glance.
I miss you and I wish that I was good enough.

Mired in my mind
and running out of time
can I keep still?
Can I keep going on still?
Can I keep steeling my heart
to stand and be warm in the winter?
When terms end and we’re not friends
can you keep stealing my heart?
If you fall to another man and
I spring to a secondary plan
will we be apart?
I don’t want to shove
and I’ve basically given up
even though you’re farther than your love.
It cuts deep but still my desire must beat
but it’s musty and a bit rusty.
The divide between us must be irrational
because it keeps increasing without a rationale
and without a ration to feed your monotony.
I need to know if I can keep still
when you’re around me so parenthetically.
On the cosmetic there’s sympathy
but it feels phony and pathetic. You’re synthetic
and golden steel; gleaming with a cold beauty!
You’re athletic but you don’t carry the kinetic
energy and lack the will to work for me.
When you’re starting not to feel
and I’m losing my chill
can I keep still?

Slightly less depressing, I guess
that March arched differently,
I suppose. I met her with eyes closed,
no hoes, and overloaded with heavy snow.
She was caustic and firey,
smoke frequently enrolled in her nose;
she was never parched. She would
gather wood, but the pills peeled away
the spark and she never had the fury.

I was not in tune to see flowers bloom,
but I just escaped the want for a boom.
She made me focus on her though,
her eyes so low, her mouth so slow
with ice flows, her tongue rolled
but still my tired eyes glowed.

January started with a bang… or
at least I wanted it to. My head hurt,
like cold dirt, it was hard to push through.
Frozen feelings filled my cup so much,
and far away flings filed away felt like crushes,
crushing me to dust, slushing up my double cup.
Fear of my mother’s sadness dissuaded the blade,
yet I yearned to learn how to soar, how to get more.
Fear of my sister missing her brother curtailed
the hail that seemed like Hell over my life that failed.
Over weeks and weakness, I tried to prevail,
to look past the veil that was in front of me. Pale
in the face, I paled in comparison to a towering cloud,
crowding me. Loud, loud, loud was the chilling sound;
no odor, but my thoughts have never been colder.

So I have rightly survived my ordeal,
and I am much better because of it.
I was at the point of wanting to ****,
luckily, I pulled myself from the pit.
I can now see that true love comes from me.
Seeing life for what it really is,
achieving some independence is key.
Relenting my misery and hate with,
love for today, and hope for tomorrow.
Seeking to spread happiness, love, and care,
in order to cast away my sorrow.
Surpassing the land and walking on air.
In spite of loss I feel somewhat stronger;
I can truly doubt myself no longer.


Or so I thought

I awoke to the crashing sound of thunder,
outside my window, I stared, placed with wonder.
The day was umbral and stormy, with no light in sight.
Cold sensations in the air, something didn’t feel right.
I searched the house, to find my Mom slumped on the floor.
She was crying and she swore that Dad left for that *****.
Emptiness filled me, and my eyes darkened with detest.
My “father” cleaved her heart beating from her chest.

When he left, he abducted something from me.
He robbed my sister’s opportunity at having a good father.
For that, I love him no longer
and hope that when he is dying no one bothers.
He robbed my mother’s peace and love
and left her doubting the realness of above.
I hate such a coward and wish that he could die a thousand deaths;
I pray that his existence would collapse as he loses his last breath.
He ruined our lives and set them in disarray,
fraying our world as soon as he left our driveway.
However, when he departed, he also replaced.
He left my mother with destabilizing depression,
he left my sister with a skepticism of man’s impression,
he left myself with a lack of self, with no exception.

For the one who takes, loses in turn.
For his life, I wish to burn and burn.

Alone, I’m sitting.
A rock in the snow, how fitting.
With a heavy heart, I’m sipping.
I’m falling down and tearing up.
My woes swimming inside my double cup.
With others, I’m still by myself.
I can’t afford to go out with no wealth.
Why am I apart from them? I don’t know.
To a land without snow, I strive to go.
I try and try, but to the truth, I’m denied.
Again and again, I strive for their lies.
And I wonder why as I sit alone.

Dead men suffer not
while the living rust with rot.
Streams of pain drain from my eyes,
as I too, despise this rain of demise.
Screams beam from the inside but my
outside shines somewhat bright.
Like a tempest tossing me, I’m drowning
not of passion, only despair.
Here, I cry while the night
chases away my light.
Days are bittersweet, yielding the promise
of beauty but hiding the inevitable fright.
Lucid love licks my lips lustfully, lively,
as white waves wash wildly over me,
but they can’t run free.
I wonder what is right to be.
Fury runs free, as it never clots.
My dreams twist my hopes into knots
because others do not hold the shots
from a cruel life. I fight, kick, pound,
but I can’t scream out loud.
And so I die a death without sound.

Daylight turns dark by the sight of night
and my desperate endeavors lack light.
You keep me far beyond your hands,
but my eyes still taste of you.
Long are the nights that you fall like sands.
I would right my wrongs just to reach you.

I despise the demise in the moonrise;
I just want to reach your eyes.
I try to see why,
I try to see why,
I try to see why you deny me like Peter.
You claim to accept me, but your words
so often blur together. Like birds
you lie higher than the light of the sky;
away from a dying cry and so high you fly.
Your chaos echoes too great for me.
My heart teeters on the edge of sanity;
it’s the summer and winter of Demeter.
These nights never die, they live forever.
Why can’t our time just tick together?
Each time that I look at you, it feels as if a dementor
is leeching me, as I try to see why.

Daylight turns dark by the sight of night
and my desperate endeavors lack light.
You keep me far beyond your hands,
but my eyes still taste of you.
Long are the nights that you fall like sands.
I would right my wrongs just to reach you.

I strive for your thoughts and attention
and only you can thin the tension within.
But our days just haze woefully gray.
It sets my heart to blaze,
but to you it doesn’t faze.

My thoughts of you only continue to distend
without end. But to my chagrin,
you get under my skin, you make the nights dim,
you cause me to grin. But against you I can’t swim,
I’m a fish without a fin; these nights are so grim.
But I just want to know your ways,
how do you put me in such a craze?
How is your gaze brighter than the Sun’s rays?
But to the rim I can reach with your praise.
These days are up to the brim with mayhem.
I don’t know where to go. What to do while
everything feels like it’s falling apart.
I hate this, it’s not fun for me.
Why does day and night feel the same?

Daylight turns dark by the sight of night
and my desperate endeavors lack light.
You keep me far beyond your hands,
but my eyes still taste of you.
Long are the nights that you fall like sands.
I would right my wrongs just to reach you.

I know that Heaven is so close
because all I see is your face.
Although for us, it’s slower than the snow
blowing without woe. Your
glow grows my core and sets me to soar
towards a heavenly embrace. Facing
my fears with you near, I have no foe.
But it hurts to be so close and so far;
am I stuck in tar? I want us to have space
but I just want our embrace and so
to your reach, I give chase.
I race to meet your pace;
is this a coup de grace or my disgrace?
Can my adoration reach higher than the floor?
I don’t know if Heaven is that far.
I want to forego this unblissful inflow
of the unknowing that comes from below
those heavenly downpours. But I am so poor!
Poor in my heart and alone with sorrow,
but I can be rich with your reach.
Heaven promises beauty in your mere glance.
Oh! I’m blessed with sweet deliverance!
With you, I need just one dance.
For you, I’ll take any chance.
Your reach is my future’s finance.

The days haze woefully gray
as I sit here, alone, and my blaze decays.
Empty promises never go away,
and so I swear to close their place
in my desperate heart. But the night
lives as long as it is tenebrous. I’ve tried
to hide, to bide my time until they see
the type of person that I can be. To me,
it was a waste; they didn’t want to be
the friend that I needed. And so I pleaded
with myself to never be so weak. But the ends
of my week stayed littered with fleeting
hopes to be included, to be one of them.

I attempted to be bold and put my fears on hold
because regret lives longer than the night.
And yet I remain here unnoticed and unwanted. I hate
how my doubt distends and bends so bitterly.
But perhaps it is my fate? Am I destined to be late
from the gaze of my peers; to be deaf in their ears?
But I can’t deny that it hurts as I am a blur
in the vision of my friends. My patience is evasive.
I am set to wait, while they are sated and I hate it.

The night is a heavyweight and I am too weak.
I strive to not be so jealous. I wish to not feel so much.
I want to need myself more. But the night is not light,
it is an empty reach, stinging with envy. My eyes
are sorrowed by such a shade, but they despise
by their lonesome. So loathsome is the blight
that comes with the lonely night. It arrives
much unlike a good knight. It lurks there despite
my might, and it is never defeated when we fight.
The white of daylight is gone by the sight of the night...

Waves of sadness make me hostage.
I’m broken down, taxed, and can’t pay homage
to the ones who love me because they won’t exist.
My determination? Destitute. My drive? Despondent.
I’m tired and tied in *******; beatings make me blind.
Fearing too much of being not enough; timidly
with flight or fight, I’m frozen and stuck behind.
Losing my hope is a snowball decreasing
my peace of mind, but increasing proclivity
for this piece of mine to knock off a piece of mind.

The terror taking thoughts as I tear a wrist.
Mentally. In my mind, I paint vividly.
Nothing. My writing lacks imagery;
temerity isn’t consistent and it’s not fair to me.
With this life, I feel disparity. Please stop the abuse,
it’s not even a rarity. I need care for me.
The blues keep playing until tears produce.
Smiles are only arriving rarely; numbly
I’m barely feeling it a little bit.
I’m neutral, where’s polarity?
Prosperity? I’m probably spilling it.
Making a mistake seems so scary
when its dreams, seduces, and reduces,
your will to go on because of the bruises.
And when I take another hit squarely
to the chest, I’ll just cry and take another hit
to the chest, until they’re enthused and I’m used.

I lived through you abandoning me.
There was a time that I showed you glee,
but now I could never do that again.
You are not a father, you only bring rain.
Broken from your chains, forever am I free.

You said that we were friends, but now I see.
Where there was once care, there is nothing.
Even though our friendship has been slain,
I lived.

We shared a love soaked with beauty,
until you stopped loving and tossed the key;
to my heart, you brought care, but then replaced it with pain.
No longer do I see you in every woman, and every window pane.
By embracing myself and disdaining your vain, I lived.

How are these tears so cold?
I flinch and shiver from each river.
The slow waters, freezes on my chin,
seeps into sore skin. It hurts.
Each drop as a hot coal, not cold,
timid yet so bold burns my eyes.
It’s so hard to type or even write.
Cascading waves, down my face,
as my faith and all fades away.
Are my tears even worth pushing away?
Shapes blurry, the water’s murky,
you say sorry but still hurt me.
Can you please stop hurting me?
Calm the entropy. You’re so empty.
Mercy! Please stop hurting me;
I can’t deal with the lack of gl—

No one’s perfect, but I feel worthless sometimes.
My crimes are not legal offenses but are enzymes
that define, divide, and decline my spine.
It’s cancer unbenign to see wine derived
from her water. But I would see it and still love her.
I would slaughter my inhibitions to be her lover;
to concur with her words, offer her what she prefers.
I would burr my feelings for others to spur my feelings for her.

For her, I would give her whatever she deserves. But how sad, how mad,
how bad is that? To make my heart clad
with false hopes and rash rushes isn’t a gladness.
It’s tempting sadness that accesses and addresses
my weaknesses. Weaknesses that slither and slide
like snakes in my eyes. So sweet are her dresses,
so seductive is her sight. She makes my mind
sad with sycophant sensations, and we turn to messes.