as i traverse through the depths
of my own transgressions,
i am acutely aware of the celestial
realm shedding tears of sorrow.
it is an unending cycle of wrongdoing
that has permeated every fiber
of my existence.

these tears,
like a torrential downpour,
cascade upon my weary head, submerging
me in a sea of remorse.
the stains of my sins, like a vile residue,
cling to my very being, a constant reminder
of the hand I have used to wipe my face.
the heavens themselves bear witness
to this filth that engulfs me.

"oh, but you, so young and naive,
indulging in acts of self-inflicted harm
in the name of amusement.
little do you realize that your days
are numbered, and the reckoning
will soon be upon you."

when the time comes for you
to account for the good you have done
with the life bestowed upon you,
how will you respond?
love may profess the willingness
to sacrifice everything, yet no one
can guarantee passage into paradise
for another.

the heavens, undoubtedly,
weep for me, just as i weep for myself.
however, the heavens forbid me from
shedding tears of my own.

.

"I wish I could just die in my sleep,
to never wake up and remain a foreign
memory in my sweetest dream
A tattoo printed on the skin's of time,
rolled up by life's sleeve
With nothing more to give, as only a fraction of a second;
I'd divide myself to give people less grief
To be a tale; a folklore about my life,-
as a passing rumor on the streets
Let me go in peace, still with a piece of myself,
to that last breath of relief."

    Sadly,
        these are just the many thoughts I have
            to comprehend, each night I try to fall sleep.

I dreamt of a familiar kind of you,
that I became soaked in my own tears
I swam across oceans to reunite with you, to see you again,
but I know so much of you, and how you hate to see men
And I'd hate to admit it was all just a ******* in the end.

I wonder if you held the key to curing my depression,
I had always felt like a burden, being treated as a sickness
As I couldn't really talk to a lot of girls a while before;
so I'm guessing now, its still my only real weakness
But I learnt to catch myself enough times,
before catching anymore of unnecessary feelings
I had become a master at suppressing my feelings,
even if it meant killing a part of myself in the process
- suffering in love crimes with so many villains.

But I'd kiss a mistress as if I were her last hero,
though, I couldn't get enough of shaking
hands with a bit of lust, -it should have been
my very last in all these secret ***** dealings
Still on top of my head, I go beyond my own ceilings,
I would continue to lock my heart away, like a machine
that had been programmed; to securely lock away
it's heart with time's sealings.


                           Is this what it feels like to never love again?

In the darkest hour, I may rise at 3am,
Lost in a haze, sipping aimlessly,
Aiming another sip down my weary throat,
Yearning to silence a cough, to release my words,
As I ponder the creatures lurking in my mind's sea.

Within the depths of my thoughts, they swim,
Engaged in a fierce battle for breath,
Yet, I question why I label my courage a monster,
For it is I who has been the true beast all along.

Knowing the ways to make you drip like honey,
I find myself lost in thought, afraid to dive
too deep and drown in the sea of emotions
you stir within me.

Every day feels like swimming in a bittersweet pool,
your taste lingering on my tongue and your
touch leaving a blush on my cheeks.
Your sweetness is both a blessing and a curse,
triggering a desire that I struggle to contain.

But I know better than to play with fire, toying
with the knots in your hair and risking getting burned.
So I treat you with the utmost grace,
saying my prayers before every meal, savoring
the rush of your heartbeat as I feast on your love.

"Eat your heart out,"
they say, and I do, with every fiber of my being.

It all feels like a craft of love,
a tight fit in my eyes naked views
A beautiful body of work,
grinding my gears to a halt,
At a place of it being wore out in perfection,
the once new smell, becomes as creased
as my socks.

But even with its imperfections,
the painting still manages to wiggle
its way into my heart, leaving a lasting
impression that I can't shake.

It's like a tapeworm inside of me,
recording every beat of my heart and
every thought in my mind.
I try to pull it out, but it's no use.
The painting has become a part of me,
a part of my soul that I can't let go of.

And even though it brings me pain at times,
I can't help but smile. It's like a silly game
that I can't resist, a game that brings me joy
and laughter even in the darkest of times.
So I'll keep it close to my heart, like a knife in my mouth,
ready to cut open a crack of a smile whenever I need it most.