But more sad songs and poems
Are written every day.

To the woes that fill your silence and make you weary,
You say, you will not sway from what you believe.
To the ****** choices you're doomed to carry,
You say, you will, one day, overcome.

Here I am, at the end of the road
With a darkness raging like a fire, it burns me till I cannot feel.
I cry silent tears, a mix of salt and dreams, as I catch myself from falling,
From the edge of life, from the peak of my fears.

Take away from me, my past and all that holds me
Give me a light I know I can shine forth, one that guides me home.
Cleanse me from this plague in my heart
With a reason to see beyond the chains that bind me.
Find me a home, a promised land, one where You and I can be .

Certain rhythms will provoke ghosts
in old attics reeking with romance.
That eternal prayer
found in complete silence,
begs sinners to break purity.

Mortal breathes begin to dance between lips,
creating poetry in sacred space.
The momentary awareness of another,
who craves the absorption of your soul.

**** me into your lungs darling.
I'll translate centuries of painful wisdom
stirring in the temple of my bones.

These truths begin a home
in our late night dialogues
circling around dangerous pasts,
all those golden, fatal blades.

As we make our way back to the red light of sleep,
the attic leans in to touch our skulls.
We respond with agony and laughter.

I slide into sleep,
forgetting all I need to find in your mind.
Accepting the fingerprints
as you press my identity upon your tongue.
The restless goddess within my nature
swallows the mortality
in tonight's poetry.

But this never lasts.
Love is a distraction,
an intoxication meant to entertain that ego who loves deficiency,
a selfish voice who finds herself every morning in front of a decaying mirror
and blames the lack of other.

Learn to leave the fear behind.
You alone are whole.
There is poetry sewn into your veins.
Underneath that sacred silence
there is an original symphony
waiting to find the medium of your complex truth.

the drugs that help you fall asleep
are the same ones
that haunt you in your dreams

Infatuated is me, infatuated is we, infatuation for the both of us as we celebrate the love that we both receive.

Two of a kind we are, as our hearts multiply...excited about all the tricks and treats of our ****** desires

Comparing both our minds oh how it's so divine. That the love we have for each other can never expire..

Infatuated is me, infatuated is we, infatuation for the both of us as we celebrate the love that we both receive.