And in a dream;
I was just its distant memory
Far from the things I knew,
I had opened my eyes to see'
It wasn't a dream- I was just clueless
To my own reality, and lost in my own mind

.... Oh it was such a splendid daydream

Always stuck inside a world
******* me over; loves
to fornicate
The mouths with nothing better
to say; just words forming hate
And their eyes filled with ******
violence; it's always focused hate

As I was close to meeting death's deadline,
not even given two weeks notice
They assumed I was too weak to notice
as the smell of death was red, like a
resting bed of roses; in a garden
grave I lay
But maybe nowadays I'd be seeing songs
about how graves turn into gardens
Still it's grave for me to say, I'm still on
that path of feeling saved
As I could probably count all my prayers,
and dig up that dusty Holy text in my drawer
that's like the book's final grave

I figure that the figures counting
out another day
Are what we figure gives us a little
hope of being figures to this world,
That still live to see tomorrow by
heaven's sake

Clears throat...

"Lay me to rest
for how I'm dying to kiss
your face
Still in my head; levitate, levitate
level me down to trade light
words, like smoke in a vape
You're my favourite picture in
my head, and I won't let you out of
the frame

And we're just the anthem of our words,
my hand on my chest; arousing my feelings
You're a rousing and uplifting song without
any shame"

       ...........

"But it's a shame;
you and I haven't met
Still it's the sounds of a yearning heart
continuously calling out your name"

I appreciate you for
your consistency
As you play a record
spinning in my head
Rewinding the memories I hate,
a constant repeat, and repeat...
A reminder of: so many poems
I wrote for girls

I honestly hate them all
wishing I could scrap them all
from scrapping together the courage
to write them all
To agree so well with disagreements
all those inner feelings
You seem to be more or less,
but I'm really molested by you
Touched by this heart-wrenching feeling
disgusted by it's hand
Discussing to myself as the comfort of
my own voice as an only friend

We are perfect foes you and I
novocaine; are we never again to
share such an unfeeling pain?

In a house of my brain
quieting whispers of wind
So loud to hear in it's open space;
might be paranoid, filling holes
to be whole in the voids

Some days I learn to avoid you
as you're a poverty of my personality
And it's so rich to know I can't
afford you

So at any given chance,
I try to ignore you

I am a journey

Lost in the many words,
thoughts, and scribbles of poems
A poet unheard in prose
of this continuous story
For everyday is but a breath for
a flip of another page

A strike of words of the lightening
in my pen
Echoes of pain after the rain
—my tears are unseen in physical
But just the oceans of myself
written in ink

My skin is just the camouflage I
have to hide my life tragedy
My eyes the thin glass cracked by
all the hardships I've seen
My lips the applauds of the sounds
of self-encouragement I must tell
myself

My smile the minor blessing
of a heavenly joy;
and it's heart burning of unfit desire
as hot as hell

And I burn in this beautiful internal
eternal flame as a flower
But unfortunately they'll only see me
for only smoke