My Father did so much for me,
although my Mother got all the credit.

Once pen is put to paper
have a deeply felt responsibility
to complete their works.

Even when drawing for themselves,
they are secretly drawing for you,
their invisible audience.

I feet this heavy sensation thats full of dread
I feel it all around, assuming sleep paralysis
4AM that I started planting subliminal thoughts in my head
Specks like vessels, I had consciously felt before
Struggled against the feeling, a feeling from what I did
I loathe my youth, platonic love, and morbid existence
And there's nothing more candid
Waiting for another chance of life is not right
I'm not like the feckless, like the bandits
Covers may bring sorrow from swive and dives
As long as you’ve got something to say then
It doesn’t matter too much how you say it
Lost, I highly recommend you stay alight
Your jawline against mine is was like...
A wave loudly clashing against a long shoreline
The sillage you had left behind was majestic
You're not like the limpid, like your kindred
Getting rid of your oarless secrets that'll befold
And there's nothing more candid
Glowing white lips that fade
Into silver comely light
Away in a padded close
My paracosm lies prostate
Upon the wings of mine
Upon your ditzy toes
Upon your nacreous face

i want to stand
underneath the clouds
as the rain   f
                        a
                            l
                               l
                                  s
in  s l o w m o t i o n
to feel
every single drop
as they hit
my upturned face
and   r     o    l    l
down my neck
in serene streams
that take away
all my thoughts
leaving me
clear
clean
and *blissfully empty

i'm 21;
yet my mind is still flying away to the countryside
to dance with the lark under the meadow bridge