how i know i can't swim,
we somehow drifted apart
and i could have taken the advise of Moses,
and split the waters in between us in two,
-but tell me if love wasn't made for two
while i butter you up with sweet words
to have you as a spread
still feeling anxious as two ticks of
a message, still unread.

.....tying, tying,
i still doubt i'm your type,
that sort of guy you like cos
he liked you first,- you must call me cute
and i feel myself trapped in an  unwelcome
phenomenon -really feeling acute
but if you could feast on my eyes, you'd
fall prey to your hunger, if i gave the right look.

maybe i should tattoo my words
for their intentions to stick
but even a subtle taste, bite and a lick,
can at times overstep the tingles rushing
down to your feet. so i do prefer to kiss
but before the kiss, tell me if we'll be
trading skin for skin, or shedding skin off skin
cos we both know kiss will always
rhyme with hiss.

Jesus eyes made of explosives,
blood on the flag, banners
cascading man's ill motives
A sickening world,
I should speak another prayer,
i just don't have enough of the words.

My self will, is selfish as the kids
hiding candy in their ***** pockets
Life isn't really sweet;
costless living is costly for others,
when you're no longer living at all
Getting all of our kicks from playing games
with the girls. Hoping they play ball,
play with my *****, and maybe catch a score.
Call her by her for a night,
later on, we won't call you at all.

And you should cry yourself a river,
wet up your eyes, so you can barely see
Still don't misstep your feet,
as anyone can slip into their depression
And I'll draw out all of your negative emotions,
as it becomes the picture, as you drew out your weapon.

                               It's a hard world we live in.

In the depths of darkness, I find myself
at odds with the elusive shadows.
It is as if the skeletons hidden in my
closet have found their voice, singing haunting
melodies that reverberate through my being.
With each note, my fears are shaken off,
like leaves falling from a tree in the autumn breeze.

But there is something more sinister
lurking in the corners of my existence.
Death, with her cold fingers, creeps closer,
threatening to steal away the precious moments of my life.
Time, once a constant companion, now seems irrelevant,
a mere observer as I navigate the treacherous path
between angels and demons. Heaven and Hell.

The omens that surround me are like oracles,
weaving a tapestry of the future.
Each thread is sewn with the stitches of a final laugh,
a mocking reminder of the inevitable encounter with death.
Exhaustion weighs heavily upon me, a result
of restless nights and endless toil.

I find myself trapped in a state of utter fatigue,
a working zombie in a world that demands
my every waking moment.
Juggling tasks becomes a Herculean feat,
as my mind struggles to function amidst the chaos.
Sanity slips through my fingers like sand,
and yet I cling to the pen, a lifeline in these unearthly hours.

In this battle against the shadows, I am weary but determined.
I will not let the darkness consume me.
I will continue to fight, to push through the exhaustion,
and to find solace in the written word.

For even in the darkest of nights,
there is a glimmer of hope,
a spark that refuses to be extinguished.

Please don't misunderstand me for being so blunt,
but I can't help but feel like the sun and moon
are in cahoots to taunt.
Their tears will fall together,
marking the warmest winter I've ever known.

If I don't wake up tomorrow,
don't think I'm running away.
I'm just sleeping through the pain,
drowning in my tears every day.
If I die, it's not for me, but for others to live.

I've given my all, but it seems like I've only received a little.
I fear that you've stopped listening to me,
and now my prayers are just a riddle.
I've questioned love, but you've yet to answer me.
So please, care for me last, and forgive me
if I'm being selfish, you see.

I've never been one to think for myself,
always putting others first.
But now I just want to be heard,
to have my words not go unheard.
I wish to be seen, for people to understand
what I really mean.
But time has run out for me,
and I'm left wondering how to trust when trust is empty.

Living is just a slow walk to death,
and my dreams are just constant nightmares.
I follow the rules of my wake, but I'm always
looking for a way to escape the snares.
It's hard to keep myself together, living under the weather.
My future depression has its roots in the past,
and I know I should care more about myself.

But I'm stuck on loving everybody
else, giving my heart out for them to pick.
I try to stay above the high waters of every
relationship, but I'm just a sinking ship.
If love was once mine, I'm convinced I never had it.
I've given it all away to my friends,
enjoying the sense of pure insanity, I admit.

I'm the man everyone looks to lean on,
painting pictures for them to dream on.
Some days I hate it, but I do it all out of love.
I fake it often, but let me end up weightless
inside of being, like a dove.

"Life is a gamble,"
a question that only I can answer.
It often leaves me behind,
a mere memory of a forgotten dream.

As the dawn breaks,
I can sense the impending fall.
We will all remember this moment through t
he melodies of a bird's song:
"You have reached your destination,
but what was it like where you came from?"
Once again, the lonely question lingers,
reminding me of all that I have lost.

The path of a man is a treacherous one.
Life has taught us that it is our own worst enemy.
I am aware of this truth, yet
I find solace in the stories of others.
You may see my face, but you will never truly
know the tales it holds.
Perhaps you have heard the echoes
of my heart, but they are but empty sounds.

In the faces I encounter, I see glimpses of myself.
It is not a humble sight to witness
the abundance of love that eludes me.
Doubt consumes me, making me question
if I would ever be so carefree.
These dull faces reflect the uncertainty
that resides within me.

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.