Our good books tell us
Christ walked on the water
but that God was brought
to the New World on galleons,
so I ask you, wise ones, teachers
and preachers of History,
how it came to be that the Son
didn't require a boat like the Father,
and how the hell you managed
afterall to get things so backwards
when the soldiers and priests
kissed the the ground and walked
on God's children around them.

If there is
Just one thing I could do differently
I would go back to that night
And catch every single tear
That fell from your eyes

Ex therapist
She who must not be named

For taking such a meaningful
Experience from my life

You could care less

No female friend
Ever came

Well, thanks anyway
I could care less

You ruined things

Thanks again
For ruining things

Bleh

I don't know which is worse,
Feeling okay despite of the devastating events happening
or do nothing because you can't change anything.

She was the fighter, the rebel
Hidden behind cherry lips
Pale and slender, a voice that would make you surrender
With eyes like an eclipse

Carefully plotted schemes she carried,
Delicate steps she always took
Armed with an army of mischievous intentions
She played the good girl well, but she was undoubtedly a crook

Ask any man, he'll tell you so
She had a reputation like no other
If you'd met her, you'd surely wish you hadn't
They call her the Heart Hunter.