I dreamt of a white road
Joining family in celebration
commemorating the divine serenity of forever

Collecting moments in photo albums
with the people dancing
and the cardinals singing folk

My eyes meet yours in comfort
and I feel nothing but warmth and assurance
with your curved lip promising sweet pleasure

But before bells ring and angels carol
we fall one last time before forever
and our lips collide to a strong applaud

This is the moment we will remember
the world spins but we are still
in the purest form of togetherness simply for forever

If the world froze like ice
clocks would be still

Winds would halt
at mighty Time's will

Horns would be trapped
in Emptiness's satchel

Power for no one
living in the frozen castle

Troubled by the same being over the years, sweet breath chilling my spine. God told me stories of how he has seen me cry and watched me fall and I smiled when he finished but now I am not smiling anymore. Now I am troubled.

Firm on the hands of the God's man
Bleeding through responsibilities and dinner plans

Think firm on your own charm
Think to philosophize your own arms

Look in the glass and hate yourself
Heal, then offer your lonesome help

A sage reflects his own heart
And picks and tears it apart

To criticize the fair is to release pain
For, the criticizer only has all to gain

The stench that lifts me off my feet,
****, lining the underneath of finger nails-
a firm handshake with a suit.

Paints my palm black,
I go finger painting on my keyboard.
Stupid remarks, a buzz in my ear.

I breath in the dust of coffee,
fill my lungs with communal light,
bring my face to the back of my skull.

Addicts fill up the floor space.
Aroused to keep by their merits,
they holy few who look only down.

Whispers of laughter fill the emptiness,
pitter patters of throats distract voids.
Rain-filled calms pour until they are gone-
as an echoed call traveling beyond.

Oh acceptance. What a pure sound
that lays forever in good,
withholding kindness behind cabinet doors
and pleases the beast within.

There's no more love in America
Fake faces on screens create a hysteria

Unattainable perfection develops a depression
That feast on self hatred and drinks self aggression

Our bodies are not molded of clay created by selection
We are birthed of mistakes that mold our perfections

Our lives are forcibly drenched around image
But *** shouldn't be peddle it should be privilege

Before all of this, love was a time and a place
A moment that was told by heartfelt embrace

That created a lone eternity for a pair of lovers
Where happiness dwelt under and above the covers

Now it is manufactured, sold, and looted
Only we would take something pure and make it polluted

Gracious is the girl whose eyes look soulfully into your mind
None of her movements show elements of hurt, her motion so divine
Fluidity upon her sweet careful lips, who sip bottled wine

Her body creates a religion that no God could ever compare
A heavenly choir charms the clouds whenever she is bare
But every man she’s ever met could never take a slight glare

For her beauty was not created for mankind’s unsacred desire
Pleasure was not in her description unless you were to only admire
Heaven for the first man to witness the soul purifier

When she spoke, a certain note, came out like an angelic song
Her voice had a certain charm that switched every brain on
And upon a listen the girl’s noise could be heard from long

Her face was fabricated by the greatest artist of time
Chiseled in hedonism, during his limited prime
Every feature independent but beautiful in his mind

He worked on the slight curve of her hips for years
And molded her to perfection, stained with blood and tears
If Eve was flawless she was sheer

Secrets… caught in the attic.
Over our heads, we dread.
Eating the wood crumbs. So somber. So well-done.
Ghost overhead. Munching on our beds.
Help. Hopeless. Dreading the whale. Over and compass.
Threatened by heat-like scales. Cutting us open.
Upon what end. Is this the end? I hope this is. I hope.

Real knowledge fondles the mind
Real men take to what's kind
But little does he know he's blind
because he's let ******* define

What he perceives as genuine
And now he's forced to take medicine
because he crumbles under adrenaline
from the mixed concepts of feminine

However he stays so addicted
to the industry that restricted
his perspective and made him submissive
He doesn't even know hes a victim

And blames his inability on his head
As his confidence hangs dead
But he will not speak of it for word will start to spread
So every time he finds love he begins to dread

the nighttime, and the blankets
so now he has cuts to remind us
that to his lover he is useless
with his only use to fill a casket

He turns to the bottle and simulation
Because that's the only way he gets stimulation
But for the last hes felt frustration
For he's given in to his own damnation

If you could compare misconceptions, how would you? What would be the commonality of confusion you could you offer? Is it individual? A hearty abyss of inconsequential details separating the changer from the changed -  the manipulator and the dirt. Explainability leaves gaps that we will not bridge.

If the dirtied moment was around
You would scream colored sounds
Driven from the under belly
Of the human lung so heavy
It could carve the leather from the couch
Would your tongue betray your mouth
Up against the ceiling tiles
The spine morphs its straight files
I feel so far from your cemented feet
Crystalize your costal heat
Brave is not your name
Passion bears not your pain

Death is in the realm of the simple
It can be belittled to a motion o’ so little
Its nature is bland
It concedes to a hand
Even a sane man can hold a pistol

Eyes, however, tell a different tale
When instructed to look past the crooked veil
Where can I stare
Where is the prayer
Of the monster that sleeps so frail

Pardon me if I speak in this form
But I can no longer live on this conform
My head lives in rumbles
My voice speaks in mumbles
Where can we sail from this calm storm

I feel like a beast when I speak
My eyes jitter and my mouth creaks
I would die to be sane
I would live to be vain
Why do the words in my teeth leak

My stutter sets flames engulfing my face
And I shatter relationships with such grace
A monster in his own accord
A monster left often ignored
I have felt my own lonesome place

As I float through my chair's arm.
A hug goes through my spine.
My knees hit the floor but only to climb.
I sink through the floor, seeping through
the cracks in the wood.
Feet thunder to my locked door.
While my laptop waits for me.
You will never feel my warm hands again,
pressed against your keys.
You and I lay silent.

A fellow's greed inspires response.
Please halt at none's giver.

Abuse, outwit, abstract a renaissance-
Forge thou's own exalt, fill thou's quiver.

O You. .  . the wise and kind-
Hath no courage to claim realms dictated.

Sin! Tis' a sin of your mind!
But forewords have been slated.

May yellow riches fill smooth shells-
And truth belittle lies from false prophets.

Lay on your bounty, chime thou's bells-
See thy's truth shun false promise.

The test of our hearts is when we lay on the floor.
Naked and deprived of who we are.

May blanked love hold us in it's cotton hands.
To learn to love - to learn to stand.

There is something hiding behind your face.
I can tell because you have a subtle twinkle .
Not just in your eyes, but hidden in your features.

It's like you know something ,
or maybe you're up to something.

I can't find out what it is.
You are the only one that knows.

Does it shine because only you can hold it?
Does it make you happy knowing only you have it?

I see that it makes you happy.
Your lips heel.
Your eyes illuminate.

You have a certain twinkle.

With fists full of wheat pipes
we jump on a whim.
We'll shower the gardens with
gallons of sins.
We wear a posthuman poison
like a three-piece suite.
The love of this generation
is an empty truth.

To the being - lost with love.
Bring him some - a healthy dove.
The aching time - I'm lost too.
The arching rhymes - the hopeful few.
Where's my love? Is she born?
I'll crawl through the creek and storm.
To make a wish - rushed but true.
Lead us towards something new.

Where did my love turn? Did it flow out of my chest when I first drew blood? Did the angels break their faces to turn away? Has God banished me? For I have never felt so alone. In the observation of another I would never fall to my knees, but these scars holds me to dust. Is this how dust thinks?

I remember this street...
It's odd to admit but I have never gripped a wheel here before.
No, in the past I was humbled to my feet.

The street is quiet, hushed by the glimmering snow, with as many sparks as a rural sky.
On the corner lays a New England style home, with lit windows - shining in the snow like a Christmas tree.

That house is where I learned of death, where a little boy once lived. His smile was vulnerable and honest - he was unafraid to show his imperfect teeth.

He was destined to bring joy to the earth. And in the short time he had, he proved to be a prodigy of kindness.
Now he lays in a casket - embalmed and as cold as the snow resting against his old window.

Why am I here when little boys with proud smiles are so far gone? I wish we could exchange chance under the street light my old friend. I wish I could  hear you again.

in the wake of this moment
we hold our dry faces with hands

in the wake of this moment
we hold to be better brands

in the wake of our seclusion
we grasp to what we know is true

in the wake of our seclusion
we gasp for a holy few

in the wake of our improvement
we prove to be sink further to delusion

in the wake of our improvement
we prove to find some solution

in the wake of this written glass
we see a cloud beyond the horizon

in the wake of this written glass
we hear the final siren

May technology lift us to Elijah, to accelerate us faster into the ground -  irises bleached with pictures of the screen.

I came to, I think I came to.
I'm out of my shell. I'm feeling government new.
I found peace. In this warful place.
The sirens and massacres hold about my face.
I found me. In a crowded bar. Choking on *****, starring at the stars.

I ******* miss you. Our time is closing.
Please be careful - your confidence is showing. You look like a mess.
With your hair undone.
I look at you and don't know what I've become

God is broken, on our side.
We scream prayers to heaven
But they don't arrive.

And I've gotten so sick -
of complaining.
The fence is the trick.
It's mandating.

How we can ask to die.
Now life is just a picture-
to share with an ally.

Shuttered are the street lights-
which hold our welfare.
Stalking the night time-
shadows dread their low glare.

The moon loathes their shining-
which leak puddles of light
onto the cold and dark street.
That keeps away the night.

Stay away from that shine.
It cries for you.
To wrap yourself around her.
Weep away from that counter.

Corrupt the overhead.
He sings too loud.
Humble his throat.
Bring him down.

Slit deep in the archway-
a phantom hollers.
For random keepsakes-
of tandem scholars.

One governs the Onset-
the second, the Coda.
A reckon to two takes-
pass a beckoned nova.

Madness sidles a soul-
to the coast of resent.
Where boast finds shapes-
the most unbent.

Echoes calling for Coda-
to warn of her face.
Which mourns the meek-
and thorns her grace.

To wonder of knuckles-
that fill ****** fist.
She kills those who seek-
to spill into mist.

No bed sheet drapes clean-
now lost to the few.
Who loft in their weak-
soft cradling queue.

Every onset must close-
while time is stone.
A climb without crest-
is rhyme laid alone.

Inferno marked through eyes-
the onset bows to hate.
And sweat, drowning vessels-
wet with ruined fate.

Shining on to such nothing-
the cheap martyr goes.  
Now sleeping with devils-
keeping their clothes.

Damp with foul meaning-
Onset and Coda are few.
Left in debt to the meddle-
that beset their old view.

Error to their contribution-
their cries created none.
With eyes full of remorse-
time flies again in one.

An end is our greatest desire-
so to begin is our fear.
Our kin kills the same horse-
that we shrill to spear.

Deep in the portal of question-
there dwells a stuttered pain.
That yells to complete the course-
so to knell once again.

See to it, my dying song be played.
Teeming through treetops the birds made.
Rest all of Saturday, for Sunday has fate.
I’m hoping for some time gaining mistake.

Straight down the river, dogs-
bark out their owner's logs.
Our friends need to some meat.

Leather wet from its streams.
I wonder what this river dreams.
Does its aspirations still beat?

The waves invite me to comfort
They can play the cave's harp

And in an unknown instance
My sandy feet turn wet

The water holds my legs
As it travels up my skin

Its sweet warmth drowns sorrow
And lifts expectation

But this is not my being
I am not one to inherent paradise

My toes curl on stone
Not upon an ocean floor

Perhaps my fear conquers humility  
And I should stand in darkness

Perhaps these voices are ungodly

Look at the way the lights shimmer,
phasing in and out of reality.

I see you my small friends-
keep your dance humble and bright.

Deeper into cold-
orange leaves fall like snowflakes.
Chilled with destined fear.

As lightly as a newborn fawn takes its first steps - my hands will hold your face. With the faithfulness of a rosary - may I close my eyes to you.  To lean my head against your own. Let our minds marry and dream in one.

Sighs from the outliers, where they sit on rims. Drowning in tin cans - they beg for a swim. Off of bottles, berths, and burdens; so, few.  The campfire brings warmth - an ember-ed view. They wish to wash off their past, so unclean. To dry with their fellows is all they dream. The fire cries cinders that fall like petals. While gazers awe, watching flames settle.

Fidelity rest upon my shoulders
   Pushing my heels into the dirt.

Piety is but a word to your claim
   That covers oceans in cursive.

Feeble can take to you, their life
    For your mouth is the end all.

Tongues kiss like worms in flesh
    Who morph the gaps of teeth.
  
Raise all again, you sweet dove
     I sit at your will to find virtue.