self absorbing,
***** talking tastes of erosion
don't want to spoil the mood
but i soiled myself in a bust of tears
i don't cry as much, not much time
to cry about anything as a man on a constant move,
and i don't have  much of the moves, to move
back into your heart,-

let's vacate quickly before i'm occupied by time
opting out of the options at hand,
not so handy being left out when you're left handed
as i see your yawn like applauds;
forcing everyone else to chip in

we've become bored of our love, as the writing is
stuck on the wall in white; a chalkboard
as if i forgot to dot down the notes,
taking note of an aid to memory
it's too late now; the classes have ended
and I've been schooled by someone
else who could love you better.

Some live for the moment,
I won't be in a moment of motionless
Some hope for the right moment,
I'll make right to build that moment
And any beautiful moment, is all but a second,
So I'd never second guess myself,
Asking how fast a moment is gone

Principles, principles that are in charge of my life,
Be an ethical person, still be good despite your obvious bad
Living a somewhat basic life; basic truths that you'd never forget

             Do it all, and never give a moment's rest.

Let me relate to guns,
somebody who took one for family
The bullet is adopted,
-a stray that killed a cousin
Gun powder that tastes like baby kisses,
to die tastefully, while she cries
But who am I to judge; I keep one in my pants,
some keep theirs inside, some on their side
I could use it to bring death in her eyes,
or bring in her, a reason to spawn life
This gun is a tool, and it's user a peacemaker
or just a weapon

                  I'm so attached to my gun.

All the purple flowers I've
seen, sort of relate to purple eyes
Cos my vision was obscene,
obscure, insecure, and vaguely pure

Still I had seen a pretty flower,
a flower that pretty much stole my
words. She had a bite to her:

  So till death do me part, to have and to hold
this pretty flower, pretty much came with thorns

What not to say, my tongue is twisted
with the knots under my breath
I unbutton your lace, to undress
my eyes; worn out and ******* by the day

There's multiplication in such an act,
and I'm so divided on where to start
Divisive thoughts, disagreeing with myself,
whether I act as a dog with only a bark
Or choose to be animal who tends to bite,
chasing tail, and pinning it on a donkey
-it's a game to someone wanting ***

But as I shouldn't say,
I want you call on me, and worship a name,
in the moans of the night
And your thankful glow, becomes the
morning' prayer
Would you still believe in me,
confine in me, in the confines of my arms
And tickle out all of the bullets out of my gun

Behind the shades,
I see the show upon the stage you've set
But once the show ends, behind that curtain,
is where the true showcase will begin

Her skin was dark as what you
see when you close your eyes
And in the night, all you could see was
the painted white of her eyes
The tint of an artificial smile,
while she was a fly by night kind of gal
A shadow behind it's shadow, knowing
she'd always have a dark past

Her hair; black as the blanket of night
covering the sun. An heir to her throne,
who was her light-skinned son,- ironically
But it must be so commonly,
that the dark gives a reason for light
And from a dark place;
a womb was that, that birthed a new life

She braided her heir, to prepare
him for this twisted kind of life
Crowned him with thorns, so to
know, it hurts to think so sharp
As she hung a neckpiece around his neck,
to compliment his youthful charm
Bathed in him in the sweetest of flowers,
to nectar him in love
And tattooed stars on his back,
so that a thousand angles would always have his back

Tell me if this wasn't love,
or  just another dark ritual, of a dark queen mother.

Let's get high, and drink until the sun gets low
Cos I'm so fond of you, but not so fond of other girls
So no wonder I haven't found any another girl
And let me be cut in my eyes, every time I see you,
Then pretend the tears aren't a mix of blood from what I saw

Thinking about our regrets after we make love; an afterthought
Afterwards, we'll talk about ourselves as we were before
I'm always a little mellow, making a melody out of a poem
But never tempered by your tempo, once I've struck a chord

But lowkey, I'm trying to fit into your memories like a key
I've been a little twisted by other girls, who don't know me
You know, buying love out of a loan,- I'm really just lonely