If I could have a taste of everything,
I’ll probably die, before I dine—with a jaded smile;
Cos everything that you see, is really not worth the time.

Objects in the mirror,
aren’t so clear as they want to appear; trying to pretend
life isn’t so hard,- only disguises itself behind a facade.
While living an empty dream in a bottle;
sometimes I feel so trapped in that same bottle's charade.  
Forever thirsty for more of time; the flesh never truly satisfied,
and attempting to shed the past, with bones so long dried.

There’s question of
whether, all we really desire is truly attainable,
Some of it feels so unavailable; giving someone a whole universe,
for them to prefer some space. Even when there’s a lot of
relative justice- there are moments when I struggle to
connect with others, cos I don’t feel as relatable.

Where’s the point of
crying out your piece of mind, even when they claim
to call all of your actions, sharp sometimes?  
And do you see yourself clearly in a broken mirror
sometimes- with its shards piercing right in your eyes?
Cos if you can’t afford to take it all in, you’ll just cut
a moment short, with that broken piece of mind.

I got to find a piece of mind; -a fine piece of mind.
/// How fun to be so young, so dumb, so young
to bury a piece of time in an unthinking dream.
Lost myself inside a piece of an idea- right now
I don’t even know where to begin.

Trying to step into the next best thing; hope I don’t
overstep, hope I’m not overdressed – dying to suit
in, for everyone I’m trying to impress.

Press me out for my words; hoping I don’t cause
controversy, to be another story in the press.
Sometimes I find myself another kind of path,
—God, I hope that doesn’t mean that I digress.

Praying as a mess; message me a beginner’s guide
to confessing all of sin- feeling misplaced like a pencil
for a million words; drawing out words for a heavy
prayer to begin.

I’m trying to find that piece of mind
-a piece of mine; digging inside of my chest.

Extending what little time I have left; giving it a
good stretch— a stretcher. Living in my own skin as
an inconsiderate guest- looking for comforting words
when I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin,
when I feel so depressed. And would the gates of
heaven still remain open, if I wrote it an open letter?

I’m trying to find a piece of a never-ending mind,
but I’m forgetful so many times- so never mind.

The eve draws close,
endeavoring to tame my frights,
Yet the sun, a superior champion,
steals the limelight.

////It’s a subtle reminder;
a constantly temporary kind of repeat
—sometimes I cry myself to sleep,
and think to myself, “Hey, was it all
just another beautiful dream”

Procreate all of our conversations;  
to produce life in their endless longing words.

You, my beloved, hold a coveted title; as every time I speak
of you, my words are filled with a true and unyielding love,
that resounds ecstatically throughout any room.

For every conclusion of my speech, should leave
no doubt in your mind. Knowing without any hesitation
or reservation, that I love you – wholly, completely,
and unconditionally.

As we immerse ourselves in this ecstatic embrace,
calling upon the stars; hoping they too know our name
—they bear witness to our passion, twinkling with joy
as they watch us revel in the depths of our blissful affection.

And in their silent presence, we are reminded of
the vastness of the universe and the infinitesimal yet
profound impact of our love. We lie there, bathed in
the shimmering light of the stars, we cannot help
but plan for the future.