The world spins so fast; time appears to spin along with it
the arms of the clock pivot miles and miles before any notice,
for some the closest thing they have is a simple single minute
that could change a cynic into a glass half full kind of optimist.
Time sifts through the palms of some people's lives like
a night that only begins and ends with a single flickering star,
for some the hours are brought to minutes and even smaller,
time becomes even shorter. The sands of time cascades
through the hourglass as time leaves way for things spoilt.
Sometimes I wonder, why can some remain happy throughout the day
and I can't maintain a facade of a smile with each passing and slipping grain.

It all just started with a walk in the woods,
A talk on the woods blossomed like fire,
And they shalt not tire of their speeches,
Because leeches like those will never alone.

The words tasted the moisture on lips
a hidden kiss behind tall fern trees
And the bees will buzz as they ought to do
because the overdue sting is awaiting.

They sit on a log as the stream flows by,
A deer looks up, pauses, then flies away on a blanket of leaves

I wandered here myself and shalt I perish
I'd cherish the time my deer has given to me,
For to house a sea of hearts in a foliage of leaves
means less to thee and more to me.

I lay down my sword and pick up my pen,
I put down the chains and lift up my spirit,
I dance while the whole world crumbles,
As it crumbles around me.

I tumble on along the currents of wind-
passing me, a moment in an eternity,
I still turn to me for advice through the looking glass,
and passing me is a moment in an eternity.

There is a moment where I stop, the world slowly spins as I fall to the floor,
I see a flower blooming in the garden,
The woods that opened my eyes to the world beyond,
Getting smaller
Smaller

I am a moth chasing a flame,
you're burning me every second-
but there's no second guessing
that I am drawn to you.
I am a moth chasing a flame,
I might crumble to ash and dust,
to nothing but charred remains,
yet I still won't ever change.
I am a moth chasing a flame,
like a desert chasing the rain,
like a cloud chasing a plane,
like a needle chasing a vein.

I am a moth chasing a flame.

I have been thinking about love
and how you were my first.
I remembered the time that you
pulled alongside me as I was
walking home and offered me
your comfort and said it’s never
good to walk alone.
That’s how the monsters get lunch,
you said to me.
The echoes of joyfully twisted laughter
sings in my ears and for more
than a minute I enjoyed it.
I watched you put your steps to match
your shadows because it’s never
too good to dwell on darkness.
I knew right then, that I could tie my definition of beauty to the mere memory of you.
And so I did.
Now every separating kiss, I look for your lips
and every hand I hold I watch the bold sudden dodge of shadows.
And it is never there.
Because it only happened with you,
and with you I knew what it was like to be with something beautiful.
So I give you my heart, whatever five fifths to a part of a whole, I give you my heart.

Tonight my heart writes a sad song.

I will write for example ' My heartbeats sings the blues
And the night sky is shaking in silence'.

The stars dimming with every fresh breath of air.

Tonight I can write a heartbreaking song.
I gave my heart to her and she left the next day.

Through nights like these, I sat under the stars
Watching her smile lit like fireflies in the night.

She loved me once, and I loved her too.
Who wouldn't find love within her smile?

This night, I write the saddest song.
To think I held her in my arms before I held empty air.

To hear the sour surrender of silence
I used to hear her laughs, now my musical tunes tired.

What does it matter where she is.
For I know ingrained in my whole, she is not here.

Tonight I will write of emptiness like a sky
That is staring down the Earth without a light.

My eyes gazed upon the faint stars, praying it was her
My heart has found her, missing from my eyes.

The night sky casing us all, changes when morning arrives
And so like us, we too change when time comes.

I no longer hold her that's true, but with a million hearts I loved her.
My songs from my heartbeat, I hoped reached her ears.

Somewhere else, she will be somewhere else,
Showing her shine of a smile to other beings.

I love her no more, just the disdain that kept me going.
Maybe I do love her for my heart faults without her.

Though I held her in my embrace, empty nights like these,
I wished on a falling star to hold her.

Although I had not been blessed by a thousand stars to get to love her,
I let my heart write a sad song in hopes she can hear their beats.

Your words wage war; they've torn down the confidence I've spent a lifetime building.
The feeling of shattered self esteem is incomparable to any other pain known.
I've grown to learn to fend for myself,
to help myself, but I know all too well what it is like to hurt.

Your words are an artillery of hurt
each engraved with the letters that form the words
       D     E     S      T      R     U    C     T       I        O     N,

and
           H        A       T        E.

There has been rain clouds
these past few days,
I've been allowed
to love for a long time,
Maybe i should drown
the problems alone,
maybe it's enough,
I have loved enough.
You clouded my trust
And now I know
that I have loved enough.

I hope you find all that you're looking for.

—
Every girl I’ve ever pursued,
I would be lying if I never gave you my truth,
the truth is I am scared of myself.
They say time helps but over the years
my fears seem only to grow larger
and each day gets harder to go pass.
Now I can tell a joke, make a few smiles
but each mile I walk in my shoes,
the harder it is to stand still.
So I watch the world descend on me
like a rain pouring over a little field,
and dream of a shield to cover myself.
Just...there’s just no umbrella big enough.
So if I’ve ever pursue you,
don’t take the ruse of a happy smile
or the ruse of a joke like manner,
I am rarely ever happy,
but there is a little bit of happiness
in making you happy.
So I would be boldly lying if I didn’t tell you,
that I’m a sad and broken man.
I am not confident, and I don’t know how to pick you up,
but I do know one thing,
I’m happy that you’re smiling.
So I am being honest in saying
your smile is the deposit into my bank of happy memories.
I am not confident and chances are you’ll look through me
but if you could catch a glimpse of me,
remember- I never intended to lie to you.
Remember- I just wanted you to smile.

Am I allowed to see
you smile one last time,
the ghost of you is still
so pretty in my mind.
Do you mind if I say it,
your love was war,
but it was my favourite
so I keep the bloodied bandages.
The care package changed hands
I am a letter in a book of pages
I now fight a different war
but much doesn't really change.
The rainbow behind your eyes faded
I remember every one of your eye colours
and how they persistently persuaded
me to hold live ammunition to my chest.
The artillery remnants
scattered across the soils
I stand in line at remembrance
holding sepia stained photographs.

**I am fighting a different war,
one that is worth fighting for.

Write every word as if they will never cease to exist
diminish every demon within each single letter;
bring together the jovial gestures and utter anguish
captured in comforting language that manages to strike at hearts-
by breaking apart the tantalising daggers in souls and spirits.
Poetry is meant to be fierce, every piece of writing
is meant to encapsulate a lightning's roar:the thunder
and sunder the bits of the world that chooses not to fight.
Each write teases at breezes that aren't blizzards
and visits on topical interests that puts the world on its head.
Each write bled the soul of the poet and artist behind it
to bring sight to blinded eyes and give fantasies to reality.
The brutality of brandishing a knife is like a simile:
meant to cut simply at the way the world functions
and cross the junctions of where two things are alike but unseen.
Poetry is the trickling of sands in a world without deserts;
it confesses the soul of the one who holds the pen,
always meant to defend the views possessed by the poet,
holding closest every word as if it was still tied to the heart
and tear apart the fabric of a world too darkened by shadows.
Poetry is an arrow that isn't meant to stop the heart, but stop the hate.

When I was a kid I used to play hide and seek a lot,
take it from me, the biggest tree isn't the best hiding spot.
When I was a kid I also used to smile and cry a lot,
I guess it was part of my game, disappear behind a tree,
avoid anyone who was seeking and let my brown eyes run
like the sun casting its lights over the cliff of a waterfall.

I remember the first time I had met and talked to Sarah,
she caught me playing hide and seek as I usually did.
I remember thinking it wasn't fair that she had found me
because there wasn't supposed to be anyone seeking.
She had asked me what I was doing behind the tree
before I could answer she told me to count to thirty,
so I counted. Being a kid; counting to thirty was difficult,
it was intricate enough to count to ten or even twenty
but thirty felt like an eternity to a six year old.
I told her I wasn't going to count because I couldn't
and I wouldn't satisfy the request of a complete stranger.

This was way before the stranger is danger days
where you could play in a park  with a forty-five
year old man and no one would bother wondering why
a forty-five year old man is sitting at a park.
These were the days where the dark sky doesn't signify
a time to come back inside the house but a time to explore,
explore the vast stars that sat above our heads, explore-
explore the core of the earth with a plastic sand shovel.

Sarah explained to me that I was wasting time behind the tree
that she could see in the future and that I will be happy.
I didn't believe her, I asked her how she could have known
and she told me that you reap what you have sown
and to a kid that was in itself a mystery, mainly because
I didn't know the words reap or the word sown.
Sarah was about eleven when I first met her
I've seen her a few more times since then but then
became moments gone and breezes of wind blown away.

I remember Sarah playing hide and seek with me
she said I shouldn't hide behind a tree because it's too easy-
it's too easy to find a kid hiding behind a tree,
it's too easy to see that the kid will pick a tree.
I asked her how can I do things differently,
how could I ever get my chance to win at hide and seek,
I remember the weeks followed; perfecting a strategy
of running and dodging the seeker in between trees,
interestingly enough the fact remained that I still lost.
I glossed over my different plans, wondering if I can
find a different way to win this game.
I asked her how come she could find me every time
and she'd remind me of her age, but to say that-
a tortoise is wiser than a human because of its old age
is to say that a page written a decade before
could tell of how people are feeling today.
It just wasn't the truth that remained in my brain.
I told her she was lying and that she was just trying
to hide the fact that she was cheating by not counting.

When I was a kid I used to play hide and seek a lot,
take it from me, the biggest tree isn't the best hiding spot.
When I was a kid, I would always used to cry a lot,
but as I grew up that was something I tried to stop,
and I succeeded in most instances.

Sometimes I wonder whether it would be easier,
if a meteor of memories crashed and burnt into nothingness,
or if I carried it with me long enough it would degrade with my soul.
Sometimes, some days I reminisce the taste of sea salt,
across my tongue from the residues of the beach,
and some days I reminisce the same taste of tears
I have cried over women.
There is a barrier between who I aim to be and who I dream to be,
there aren’t enough shining knights so I buy a shiny armour;
just after a time when knights in shining armour aren’t valuable.
Some days I buy the ***** and bury it all alongside a drink,
but most days I try to find out the past mistakes of my dyslexia in women.
Do I or do I not ...want to relive it all again?
Whether the summer breeze or the winter wind blows across me;
Shall I see you still standing silently awaiting me?

I just want to keep you safe in my arms
I can't seem to carry the weight of both of us
and I have been trying to keep my brain happy
but that ****'s broken,
that ****'s broken.

I been meaning to tell you I'm crying,
I just can't seem to make it all go away
and I know it's hard to admit it but this heart's open,
but that ****'s broken
that ****'s broken.

I been trying to live up to your expectations,
the way you make me feel like a tsunami is approaching,
and I'm watching TV hoping my dreams were made like movies,
but that ****'s broken
that ****'s broken.

I stay awake in the night, saying goodbye to my dreams,
and it seems that you don't even notice, but hey-
I'm making the effort for the both of us and this relationship is hurting
So please don't tell me;
that that ****'s broken,
Because I'm hurting
and I'm broken,
but I'm still going,
I'm still going.

I am the work in progress you're dreaming of,
I am the wounded soldier you're leaning on
And
I am the one who will love you into the afterlife
So tonight...
Can you give me your time and just smile
Because it keeps me going
the light behind each whitened teeth is enough of a drug,
and I've been ****** up and broken long before you,
So smile, smile, smile
And don't tell me we are broken,
Because I'm still going...
I'm still going...

And this love of ours will be a story to tell our kids,
About the kiss that completes the afternoon
and the spoon we shared on New Year's Eve.
So don't tell me this love is broken
Because I'm still going
I'm still going.
You...make me want to keep going.

I etch a scar from my heart
Transfer it to you, the blue that coats it
coaxes venom back into snakes.
Ink poisoning is better than lead poisoning,
the moistening of lips from the ink
sinks into the bloodstream more positive
than the poisoning of lead into the blood.

I won't colour in between the lines,
I'm combining the pain, the mess
the dressed up confessions of sickness,
I'm the wicker of a candle set on fire
and you are the canvas I will burn.
You may think you're the subject
but we are no couplet, you're capulet
And I a Montague, and upon this view
I will cherish memories of alchemy & of poison.
You're roaming in the background
across the scenic route of my painting,
to be frank you're staining my conscience
to be honest you're the opus that feels so soulless,
the hopeless denial.

I tied my mind into something so unkind,
when I gave it time to think of you
and everything you mean to me.
I break like a bark peeling from a tree,
just hoping you could see that I'm here,
not transparent,
visible,
in the flesh,
and yearning to be yours.
I've let demons loose in my mind,
my heart has become the blinded guard
and there is just hell in my life;
nothing but hell.

There's much to say
about your face,
the symmetry of it
makes me lose focus often,
your perfect blue eyes
like a cerulean sky
so mysterious in its shape
like a soot filled fireplace.
Your small mouth
are where best kisses are housed.
Your eyebrows arent too dark;
they are a canvas for live art
settled with or without a brow pencil.
You are the prettiest person I've ever met
with roses for cheeks stained crimson red.

There's much to say
about your face.