A bantam sounds afternoon tidings as the iron weathervane points Northeast ..
Both silhouettes as endearing a sight as my eyes could
ever witness ...
Astral nights , my amour ..Colorful light illustrations brushstroke the East ,
The edge of the Milky Way perplexes , I bask in it's subtle persuasion ..
Wind battled score and five year Pines sound timorous refrains , offering great euphonic consolation* ..

I watch you watch me gliding by
Your joy worn on your sleeve
You hold me close, meld into me
My frayed veins you deftly weave.

A creeping line across an egg
Your face cracks into a smile
As silver syrup of moonlight seeps
Beem from your eyes, beguile.

I watch you pour love into me
Drops wetting parched dry heart
Words of satin, silken smooth
Bathe my restless wounds in art.

I believe that you ache when I ache
Edge of your world starts crumpling in
But tall you stand, hands on my ears
Muting out my shrieking din.

I believe you when you say you'll stay
Through my journey fraught with blades
Strong grip steadies my perilous walk
Gnashing jaws 'neath tightrope fades.

You shield yourself with arms aflexed
Marked with scars of self defense
Yet you kiss my Jekyll and my Hyde
You bore through my vile pretence.

I know not how our tale will end
The greys fragment into more shades
Know that your marrow fills my bones
You're the reason my life still parades.

I want you to want me.
With raw, unweavering power, I want you to want me.
I want my scent, my voice, to dance whimsically into your senses.
I want my face, my body, to creep into your memories.
I want you to want me as if your very life is dependant upon my touch.
I want you to want me as if you were addicted to the taste of my lips.
I want you to want me in the way that I'm always wanting you.
I want you to want me in the way that I never stop thinking about you.
I want you to want me with a  passion that burns hotter than hellfire itself.
I want you to want me with needs more intense than the wind and rain that falls from the heavans.
I want you to want me.

People misunderstand
when I talk with my mouth,
so I have decided
to speak with my feet.
Nature is orderly;
words apparently not.
Watch my toes
if you wish to comprehend me.
The feet of morning;
the feet of midday;
and the feet of night
speak different languages.
This is not my fault.
You must make the effort
to learn them.
When you do, our souls
will be in perfect harmony
like two lamprey
that **** then die.

I've been told I was the one
but I always managed to turn
into the first one
of many others
Am I of any good
or am I just that boring &
extensive chapter of that
one old book
on the dusty shelf on your
basement?
Sometimes I may be hard to read
I understand that,
but I would never leave you waiting
for a nonexistent plot
just to find out that
in the end,
I am still the same
sad & hard cover old book
lost in between many others
in that shelf
inside your mind.