Twin eyes to those hours we were apart,
double standards of monetary values; the
monitoring funds to buy out your heart, in
preparation for the view of love to come

It fills my feet with a blesséd relief; walks
of faith with tears for the damp streets—
a tongue in dormancy, doesn’t have much
good for itself to say; desperately fighting
back the great sickness of life— having to
be so patient with this world

Hanging on the ledge, eyes gauzed with silver
mist, to try and seek out a golden approval of
those gone too soon to the brilliant sky, where
the air floats above a turquoise-like dome
In a time that is of mirrored jade; of those
waiting to be heard, and those who dreamt of
a better life far ahead

I have endured the gallows, revolutions,
the many twists of time, and the crashing waves
of change that have battered the shores of my life.
Through the decades that have come and gone,
I have stood as a witness to the rhythmic dance of history,
embracing the insights gleaned from its elegant movements.

The first time I encountered it, I meandered along a forest path,
surrounded by the murmurs of ancient trees, my senses finely
tuned to the secrets hidden beneath their mossy embrace.
Oblivious to what lay beneath, my curiosity propelled me
to the brink of revelation, where the curtain was drawn back,
unveiling a realm where time paused and possibilities
unfurled infinitely before me.

My skin, once marked by the trials of existence,
now glows with the light of resilience and grace, shimmering
like the morning sun as it spills golden rays upon the earth
at spring's first awakening—a tender reminder of the beauty
that emerges from enduring the darkest of nights.

I chased after a shadow living behind a dream,
stuck in the way of lights, like a stunned deer
Finding ascensions to the clouds by a life’s amount,
as the days count down; time runs up- to eventually
run out

A human life worth gold for a time; comforts that reside
in the life of those growing up with a silver spoon
Others guided forward, from a backside given a good
wooden spoon

Passing through a lifetime of judgements of a past life
for prophets who see the future first; foretelling
a destiny, to make profit into a human’s eyes

These human genes, feel so humid in these jeans
for all the objects much darker than they really appear
So said, the monster looking at themselves in the mirror,
while drowning in a pool of tears; afloat— triumphing on
old fears

You are a honeyed vessel
Where nobility is born
As time fills it up, until it
Overflows with sweetness

An eye for nurturing life,
As a caretaker who stands firm,  
Adhering to my heart, as your
Tender love’s warmth unfolds

Building memories in place of your feet
—all the footprints get washed by the seas
Roaming visitors to the last drop of your love;
we’re arriving to the destination of your lips
I’ve found them worth more, than the sum they
come with; I desire some more kisses amongst all

Shall we tomorrow sail into the sea, our love
celebrating alive- as the ocean’s waves come to meet
You’ve washed my face with so many tears of joy
as the air we share of lips embrace, are winds of passion

Whence from your honey *** resides, is the taste
of desire of you, I cannot find a retreat from

I am not liberated; I’ll be drinking till I’m free
Dancing like a puppet; a puppet with no strings
If this is the land of promise; promise that none
Of the promises have skipped me

Do not assume that it’s over, to consume your  
Self-worth to just presume that you’re sober  
To close your eyes, to feel your joy coming closer
I do not amuse the fact of getting older, or overlook
The fact that the world is close to being over

Here is the past, images of your youth running past
Memories of it all, live as long as you last, be careful
Not to be chasing the pleasures of it, as chasing after lust
Take a secret fast; cleanse yourself of the regrets that
Have come past

And as the dreams start to haunt you;
· · · · · ·there’s no yielding result
Turning off the lights to your eye’s house
living in a sensual cold heat; cutting away
the old pieces of yourself— tailor trimmed
New memories **** the old ones supreme,
the sweetest ones sting the cheeks, as with
· · · · · ·chocolate, and sweet vanilla cream

But a joy to us, still as a cup filled to the brim
on a sweet journey to love; enjoying every thrill
Thrusting trust on a slippery road, perfect to slide
into Dm’s— one has their risk of trust

Dust is like a cloud on the road
· · · · · ·too blind to see the form of rust
In your dry bones; a burning desire burst,
on a road to and a must, of you pouring out your
strategy, and letting them tell you if it’s worth a shot
They’ll drink everything about you- all in machine
of your sweetness from within

· · · · · ·Tell me what would they get from the first sip?