Creativity.
When I think of that word it scares me.
Because it makes me think…
that without it;
Where would society be?

You have to be creative to get an idea?
You have to be creative to think of a new melody,
a new concept,
a new law.

Creativity is everywhere, creativity is imagination.
Creativity is what runs us.
Creativity is endless.
Creativity is art.

Creativity is not you, You are creativity.
Love, learn, and believe it, make a change.

In that first moment, I should have never let you in.
Now, my emotions have been pulled thin.
With my shell emaciated, my feelings melt into my skin.
My mind starts off to wander away, I lose all sight of any beauty within a day.
I sulk and heave…. my nights away.
I knew my guard should have never be set astray.
So, as long as you're around...
I don't think I'll ever be left at bay.

It's not about the cigarette;
It's about the smoke.
The smoke is like *** to my throat.

Something keeps telling me to stop.
Cease the breeze, calm my knees.
My emotions are let out to quickly by a thin string.

No matter how many times my line gets severed
I seem to just barley catch a hold of it again.

Each time I do not seem to have learned my lesson.
My heart is like a light kite that I can't seem to control.

Detrimental to these planes,
this blade is like a courtesan to these veins. Her love is slow and hard because the pressure is in her hand.

Разблюто’ — это когда тебе разбили сердце, и ты после этого очень сильно напился, до тошноты. Вот тогда в организме все разблюто.

I am sorry
But, you stumbled in your lies,
and, you hurt me with goodbye.
And, I am sorry-I cant lie,
your words were more deveined,
back when I told that I can hide,
under these layers of pride.
That I have built up over lives,
of people who have affected me.
In more ways,
than I can describe,
but I can no longer
stand side,
to the words that I prided to never lie of,
Under the blood vessels that rumble
Of empathy and our dalliance
Of words more than humble
through my razbliuto of you.

You always looked good in dark suits with golden buttons on your cuff. Those were always a nice touch, to stand side your perfect figurine.
You were everything I once wanted. But now, you really aren't.

I see the rushing of the real truths of you, swell into your own hands, dropping a ball, losing your own special touch of sportsmanship with not much of a fuss. You're letting yourself lose the game.
Just letting ***** of truth squirt out through your veins.

You're losing your grip right out from your own polished finger tips and dripping red of blood.

You constantly try to pull white handkerchiefs of innocence from the wrists of your cuffs. But, those handkerchiefs are all just red...
Don't try and gamble a bad hand if you can't keep up. You never could keep a good bluff.

Thank you,
I don't need anymore than this
just a deadbolt
and a locksmith;

To crack you open without a key.

Thank you,
I don't need anymore than this locksmith;
The bitter sweet symphony of just letting things be,
after letting you out to see the world beneath your feet,
I wanted to be the one to set you free.
Only, that wasn't good enough to me…

Thank you,
I don't need anymore than this
just a deadbolt;
and with a single pull of a kiss,
lock you up inside of me,
so you could never leave me.

Thank you,
I don't need anymore than this
just a deadbolt
and a locksmith.

I  need a girl,
who's smile,
I fall into love with so much,
that her smile drives me to capture,
those single moments of her,
in a form of colors
on my easel.

I often ponder on why, there are so many explicit days that encounter my way.

Next morning,
I couldn't wait to scrub my tongue in the shower,
last night, woke me up with a sour taste on my tongue.

Her touch wasn't the same.
Our heart raced in different ways.
They skipped off beat, not intone to each other's rhythmic beat.
What we wanted from each other wasn't the same.
I can't say I felt that great,
doing it with her,
without the bother of you in my brain.
I didn't really enjoy her sour taste.

Regardless, of her thanks. I didn't speak to her any welcome.
It was a penniless job, that was soon to be felt.

I rolled over and fell asleep,
mentally beginning to prepare for the guilt felt in my heart,
that my brain was to receive.
It may have been a respectful thank you to me,
but for I felt like it was just a job well done.
She was just a piece of meat.
Intentionally, left unattended for a lion like me to eat.

I woke up the next morning,
unsure of what happen or how it began.
Misfortunately, I was conscious,
during the event enough,
to retrieve what terrible want I had fulfilled,
Without my conscious,
I would never have known,
what happen,
based off the tomorrow's lack of shared emotion
between her words and mine.

Even after, she cried out in her last pleasure.
The 'thank you' will never be enough,
to make up for the mistake that I feel.

In the end,
it wasn't like a couple with a sad loving goodbye,
it was a good job well done.
It was an drunken single night-stand.
Drank empty with a bottle label desire.
Driven by toxic liquor that blur-ified my brain,
and my ability to say no.
But, my guilt will not make up for the pain,
that my unfaithfulness has endowed inside of you.

I touched your skin,
and I had to pray for Heaven's sake.
Your skin was a lullaby written in brail under my fingers tips.
I fell asleep playing your song over and over again.

I wish I could make everyone smile just as much as I made you smile tonight. But, maybe that is a bit selfish of me.

We don't know it yet.
But, together we are like one toxic vial mislabeled,
As it sits on a shaky shelve,
with a hundred of other vials labeled ....
'Hope'.

At first, you loved me like spring,
and you lingered like winter.
But, then you start to tease like fall,
and you end up running like summer.

Just tell me why your feelings feel like the change of seasons?