GOD; is it even for me to exercise my love
Cos I'm not fit to love, running out of chances,
running red as the blood running out my nose
the sense of smell is gone, I can never smell
any of those good intentions.

And as I cover my face at such an odd hour,
I feel uneven by how I must cover up pain with \
another smile on my face
Still you can see what drips out,
the stains are always present and on my shirt.

I need a tissue to wipe my ****** nose,
and another to wipe the tears from crying about love.

Dress my car with new takkies,
with a girl by the side, looking a bit tacky
It would break my heart,
once we stop loving each other,
Quicker than the halt of my new brake shoes.

But with her, I had walked a mile,
and kissed so many times with her devilish smile
I learnt how to speak a demons tongue,
to demonstrate by every tomorrow,
an example to say, "I need you now"

As we'd get high on the laughs
about the lowest and saddest of things,
But strangely enough, my humour was high brow.

She'd be a Medusa in my eyes,
turning my thoughts into stone
-there's always something heavy on my mind,
dear, you always weigh heavy on my mind.

It seems my emotions must find their rest,
Yet slumber eludes me-, a constant test.
As torment resides, reflected in my gaze,
Slowly turning to ashes-, tomorrow's haze.

Once, I was lost in dreams, in a forest so grand,
But now my skin feels naught, scorched by the land.
As the same scorching heat, consuming the trees,
Leaving me numb, devoid of all pleas.

As reality peels off my eyes, like a fleeting tattoo,
Where nothing feels real-, a transient view.
Mirrors shattered, in a mind of fragile glass,
A fractured reflection, and a mask that won't last.

Sorrowful tears, with impure intent,
Washing away all, as they're freely spent.
Like water beneath my sink, dripping away,
Taking with it all, in a sorrowful sway.

Vultures I rely on, hoping to evade,
Becoming their prey, in this world's cruel charade.
For it's easy to be devoured, my dear,
In this unforgiving world, where shadows leer.

I needed a place to rest my weary heart.
unfortunately, I had lost my room key,
so I asked you to spare me a space in your heart,
And you handed me a spare key and welcomed me in.

As I told the clock to wait a second for me,
still ticking off my list of red flags, and making
sure that we were compatible.
As we spent time together, making kisses
as wet as the scales of a fish out of the sea,
But I probably should have waited a little longer,
before I start calling you my catch

I couldn't resist the hook in your eyes.
The first time we made love, I was swimming in
the moisture of your body, deep in my feelings.
I took a break from breaking you open,
to sink my teeth in between your thighs.

And I was pleasantly surprised to find that
you were quite the trumpet blower.
As you found your voice blowing on my horn,
and I was left short of breath in the length of it all.
Despite my shorter stature,
I was tall in all the necessary places.

We spent our time smoking and getting high,
making a printer jealous with the loads
of paper we went through.
But I was always afraid of heights, afraid that
my mask would fall off every time I laid by your side.

As I was taught that love sometimes hurts,
but it hurts even more when you were in love
with someone who was hurting just as much as you.
But with you, I found a place to rest my love
and a spare key to your heart.

i heard of a shadow,
in an empty room
full of intentions,
still they're like a rainy day
still deciding how grey it wants to be.

i picked the corner of a world,
where my square ideas were vaguely
valued; a child who thinks out of the box
i stored a piece of myself in the closet
of my parent's skeletons;
ancestry artifacts burdened by a
generational chain,- the attire of a uniform
conversation; pretending i had a
good day at school today.

"no i didn't cry as much in class,
as i usually do, dearest mother
i did try to make a pass on math on being
calculative, on how i spent my day,
busiest father."

"as i bullied a bully before he could
make me his next victim
cutting him short a few generations
when i kicked him in his *****."

and i only cried, not out of guilt,
but to guilt everyone else, as to make it
seem as if it wasn't entirely my fault.

still even if it had not rain that day,
i'd still ask myself why my tears
felt so grey that day

Oh,
how I yearn for the era
when existence was adorned
with the bliss of simplicity.

It was a time,
when my grandest ambition
was to emulate the adults,
to engage in make-believe
and assume their roles.

The mere utterance,
of those two words, "young man,"
would instantaneously illuminate
my innocent countenance.

It was a designation,
that bestowed upon me
a sense of significance, reverence,
and recognition in a world that
appeared so immense and unfamiliar.

Those were the instances,
when I genuinely believed
that all was attainable, and
the future held boundless prospects.

The recollections,
of those untroubled days
still kindle a warmth within my heart,
reminding me of the sheer felicity
that can be discovered in the most
uncomplicated of matters.

Time, like a river flowing effortlessly,
glides through the hands of mankind.
In a futile attempt to grasp its elusive nature,
man wields a worn-out butter knife,
hoping to tame its relentless passage.

With each stroke of their rusty blade,
he yearns to bend time to his will.
Yet, his efforts are in vain, for time remains
indifferent to his feeble attempts.
Like a blunt instrument, his desire to control time
only leads to self-inflicted wounds.

As the days pass, the consequences of his
futile struggle become apparent.
The man's obsession with manipulating time
takes a toll on his well-being.
The butter knife, once a symbol of his determination,
becomes a harbinger of his downfall.

In a cruel twist of fate, the man's relentless
pursuit of power over time leads to his untimely demise.
His body succumbs to the ravages of high cholesterol,
a consequence of neglecting his health in his quest for control.

Thus, the irony of his situation becomes evident.
In his pursuit of mastering time,
he becomes a victim of its unyielding nature.
The man's story serves as a cautionary tale,
reminding us that time cannot be tamed,
and that our efforts to control it may ultimately
lead to our own downfall.