In the realm of your mentions,
I often find myself trapped in the complicated
dance of the friend zone, where boundaries
blur and desires ignite.

It is in this contradictory space that I feel
compelled to express my thoughts about your mentions:
the captivating allure of your flowing waves,
so enchanting in their beautiful movement,
it has this irresistible magnetic pull.
Each gentle touch from your lips, like a heavenly elixir,
envelops my senses in a delicate yet intoxicating flavor,
leaving me wanting more.

In the midst of these tangled emotions,
I search for the perfect words, longing to express
my deepest desires that lie dormant within me.
It is a delicate balancing act, where my words weave
a tapestry of passion and longing, intricately
intertwined with yours.

In my imagination, I hold onto the image of your
graceful neck, a natural masterpiece of elegance,
as I yearn to run my fingers along its curves,
savoring the tactile sensation that only you can provide.
And your *******, a source of sweet nectar like no other,
tempt me to call you honey, for in your presence, I become
a fervent bee, desperate to leave a lasting mark on your skin, surrendering to the insatiable hunger that consumes me.

Awakening the dormant beast within me
is effortless in your presence, as I battle the resistance
that arises within the confines of my jeans,
A silent testament to the fiery desire that burns within me.
Guided by instinct, my lips explore the paths that lead
to the core of your being, seeking the hidden treasures that
reside within the depths of your sacred temple.

Each touch, each exploration, holds the promise of uncharted territories, dormant passions waiting to be unleashed.
And with each longing gaze, it seems I have revealed
the pirate that resides in my eyes, setting sail a fleet of ships,
fueled by an insatiable hunger that yearns to consume you completely, like the meeting of two forces.

Abandoned, the dreams unspoken,
of a brilliant mind, forsaken in the
depths of despair and solitude.

A tale so grand, built on deceit,
with each step forward met by stumbling blocks
and shadowy whispers of doubt.
Success, like a towering mountain,
stood within reach, yet remained elusive
and incomplete, leaving a taste of bitter
disappointment on the tip of the tongue.

The tongue itself, a rope of words,
intricately woven with grace, possessed the
power to bind souls together in its sweet embrace,
forging connections that could withstand the test of time.
Like a skilled puppeteer, it guided conversations
and shaped relationships, allowing the exchange
of ideas and the expression of deep emotions.

And amidst the silence of unspoken dreams,
the whispers of unfulfilled potential, the tongue
held the key to unlocking hidden truths and
unspoken desires, bridging the gap between
the heart's desires and the outside world.

In its magical dance of words, it revealed both
the vulnerability and strength of the human spirit,
weaving a tapestry of stories and experiences that
echoed through the ages.

As I stood in my room, a mysterious door materialized before my eyes. Its black surface seemed to beckon me, promising an adventure beyond my wildest dreams. Intrigued by the unknown, my young and curious self couldn't resist the temptation. With a surge of excitement, I stepped through the door, leaving the familiarity of my room behind.

To my astonishment, I found myself transported to a lush and jungle-like world. The air was thick with humidity, and the vibrant green foliage surrounded me on all sides. As I ventured deeper into this enchanting realm, my senses were overwhelmed by the symphony of exotic sounds and the earthy scent of nature.

Lost in the beauty of this new world, I failed to notice the intricate spiderweb that lay in my path. Before I knew it, I was entangled in its sticky embrace. Panic surged through me as I realized the danger I was in. If the web was this colossal, what monstrous creature had spun it?

Suddenly, a giant black widow spider emerged from the shadows. Its eight beady eyes fixated on me, hunger gleaming in its gaze. Fear gripped my heart, but I refused to succumb to its predatory intentions. Summoning every ounce of strength, I fought against the silken threads that bound me.

With a burst of determination, I managed to break free from the spider's web. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I sprinted towards the door, desperate to escape the clutches of the venomous arachnid. The sound of the spider's screeching pursuit echoed in my ears, urging me to run faster.

Finally, I reached the door just in the nick of time. As I attempted to slam it shut, the spider lunged forward, attempting to force its way through. With all my might, I pushed back, narrowly avoiding its venomous fangs scratching my arm.

Relief washed over me as I successfully closed the door, sealing the spider and its treacherous world behind me. But my heart still raced with the intensity of the encounter. I knew I had to share this extraordinary tale with someone, so I eagerly awaited my mother's return from work.

As her car pulled into the driveway, I rushed to meet her, eager to recount the events that had unfolded. However, to my dismay, she dismissed my story as a figment of my imagination. Determined to prove the truth, I led her to my room, guiding her towards the mysterious door. But as we entered my room, the door vanished just as mysteriously as it had materialized.

As I stood there, my heart pounding in my chest, I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for fabricating the details of my supposed escapade. My mother, of course, didn't hold back in expressing her disappointment, scolding me for my dishonesty. Left alone with my thoughts, I couldn't help but question the authenticity of the entire experience. Was it all just a figment of my imagination? Despite my doubts, one thing was undeniable - the scratch on my arm. It served as a tangible reminder that something had indeed transpired. As I examined it closely, a sense of unease washed over me. The venom from whatever had caused the scratch was slowly taking effect, and I couldn't help but wonder what consequences awaited me.

In the realm of dreams, where magic resides,
Lies a tale of love, where desire abides.
With purple wings, untouched by time's kiss,
A fairy's enchantment, a man couldn't resist.
Whispers of an enchanted forest, they say,
Tell the story of a love, so small yet so fey.

He succumbed to the enchantment of a fairy's charm,
As their love, though seemingly insignificant to the world,
Was a flame that burned brightly in their hearts.
It was a love so pure and genuine, yet confined
to the realms of fantasy.

I remember you like a beautiful poem,
and I'm still searching for the perfect words
To add another verse to our story.
Each touch of your skin inspires me
to create something even more enchanting.

As I gaze upon you, tears streaming down your face,
I see a reflection of myself witnessing your sorrow,
It's as if your eyes shoot bullets of pure pain
And it's in this moment, I feel utterly useless,
like a needle without a sharp point, trying to
pierce your skin one last time.

Yet, despite our shared agony,
we are both numb to anything except
the hurtful words spoken by our loved ones.

My eyes, immortal and wise, yearn for
a life beyond the limits of mortality,
I desire wealth as time slowly passes, reminding
me of its monotonous nature.
In my imagination, I lead a more fulfilling existence,
However, I cannot imagine myself as the one
who will ever live out those dreams.
The sacrifices I have made will lay the groundwork
for the success that will support my loved ones.

Above all, I am someone who prioritizes others
over myself. They are my first thought, the beat
of my heart, and the recipients of my prayers
as time goes on.

In the depths of my longing, I find comfort
in the idea of transcendence.
In my mind, I envision a world where our sorrows
are fleeting moments in an eternity of joy and fulfillment.

I yearn for the day when your tears of anguish
turn into tears of laughter, when the burden of
our pain is lifted and replaced with a lightness of being.
This vision drives me forward, even in moments
of complete futility, like that needle searching for
purpose without a sharp point.

But as I dream of a life beyond my reach,
I cannot ignore the fact that I am not the main character.
I feel like that needle hidden in a haystack,
trying to find itself; a strong desire to find out
who I really am.

The days of young,
when the night starts to
kiss the sun.

An explosive portrait I tend
to see,— brushstrokes of orange clouds
Sprinkles of the hues of blue in the
pockets filled with a sky of dreams,

       A perfect scene before I go to sleep.

Under the mistletoe,
missed a chance to kiss your toes
—*******?
No, just wanted to kiss them better;
you've been running on my mind.

I've somewhat been a fool,
as it always seemed foolish to be in love
But still if I could never get enough
of falling another day in love with you,
—I'd proudly be so full of myself.

You bestow upon me kisses
infused with the essence of cinnamon,
I inquire if it is the cause of my speechlessness.
Your skin, so tender to my gaze,
possesses a delicate vulnerability that
a mere nibble could easily mark.
My profound musings, consumed by thoughts of you,
cut through the depths of my being.

In my dreams, I envision you,
with my heart suspended within yours.
The untainted purity is forever tainted
by the fiery crimson allure of your lips.
The taste of you engulfs me, leaving me breathless,
while a tantalizing sensation tightens within my trousers.

In the depths of my longing, your essence
becomes a captivating remedy for the
affliction that plagues my heart.
Your gentle curves, like a sanctuary,
provide solace for my restless mind throughout the day.

As the night unfolds, it becomes a canvas
for passionate yearning, and the delicate touch
of your intimate embrace ignites a fire within me.
The sovereignty of your femininity reigns supreme,
overwhelming me with a blissful deluge in
the paradise that is your embrace.

You've transformed into an unexpected surge of vitality,
electrifying every essential part of me.
Your movements effortlessly guide me into
the perfect state of mind, as if you possess the secret
to unlocking my deepest desires.
Your neck, delicately scented like an unfurled flower,
invites my eager kisses, as I chase after the intoxicating
allure you exude.

The spring-like cascade of your hair embodies the essence
of a scorching and restless summer, and I eagerly await its Fall.
Allow my breath to simmer, as I reach my natural
boiling point, stirred by the intensity of my emotions.
And together, let us embrace a passion that surpasses
even the fiery glow of the red light illuminating our room.

Emotions that feel like morning traffic
—people are rushing to fall in love
Their tears are like a morning sun,
you blink once and it all seems to be gone.

While my eyes are like a bed; wrestling on
a mattress just to fall asleep
My kisses act like their in charge, to
make another mouth my turf to assert my dominance,
Though I see some of us live quite a remote life,
but we are often the ones who want the most control.

The ones to always rise to the loudest occasion,
pretty much the same people, who could never smell a rose.

As her lips met mine,
a spark ignited within me.
Her kiss was like a flame that
burned with passion and desire.
I couldn't get enough of her taste, even though
it left my tongue sore and bruised.

She was my solace in times of loneliness,
a beautiful presence that made everything feel right.
But now, as I sit here alone, I can't help but wonder
why that lovely kiss ended in such a lonely way.
As if I could clear my throat more to clear my brain,
I can't clear enough of our messages to clear her name.

My heart aches with confusion and longing,
and tears stream down my face as
I try to make sense of it all.

I'm a moth in a firing line,
who shot his shot with a firefly
I kissed a few butterflies, but the
feeling of love was caterpillar
—I cocoon my heart, in the hopes
it will one day grow to be beautiful.

All of the misplaced places,
I can't help but misplace your name
As falling in love is almost as painful
as all of those times, falling from grace
At times saying a loud those lovely prayers,
as I'm hoping to give my thanks, saying my grace.

But as if I only wash my hands after,
these full meals of food for thought, is all awkward
As when you only get a joke late at night, with random laughter
I'm liken as a fool who smiles in the middle of the night,
in their bed and miniscule covering,
I still find it warms my heart, thinking about you
and treasuring a day with you, as if it were my only belonging.

But love honestly has to be something so funny;
I'm constantly laughing at myself
As we've all felt a little drunk on our very first love,
sipping on the smiles of its ****** mi tia
But of course you shake me up, till the recipe of
a disaster shakes away the ice cubes of my heart
My tears for you, are like syrup and concentrated upon
how I feel,— I hope you can ******* love.

Tears slip down my face like rain,
My eyes the wettest they've ever been.
Only in the night do they find release,
Aching with pain that will not cease.

But in the darkness, the moon appears,
A comforting presence to calm my fears.
It shines a light on my troubled soul,
And reminds me that I am whole.

Within my mind, a house does stand,
A place of wonder, a dreamland.
Imagination runs wild and free,
A world of endless possibility.

My heart is not a heart at all,
But a forest, both big and small.
Seeds of passion grow and thrive,
But weeds of wickedness do strive.

And in my soul, a fire burns bright,
A beacon of warmth in the night.
But a devil lurks, waiting to pounce,
To extinguish the flames, to denounce.

a butterfly that would represent
my suicide; is the butterfly effect
that will affect so many people in my life.

🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

I'd hate to shout to be listened to
hate to fight for my hurt to be felt
hate to steal to show how robbed of life I am
hate to start a war just to win an argument
hate to cry all through the night just to smile all day
hate to put on a face just to face another day
hate to thank God for one thing with so much to be thankful for
hate to get so much money if it meant I'd have to be famous
hate to tell a harsh truth if it meant I'd sound like a villain
hate to tip-toe around death and afraid to run to opportunities
  and hate to be hated by so many people, but I'll love them all,
                            as much as I'm in love with my every flaw.

sweet dream melody,
i knew of a love sweet as an angel
but also a quiet mistress with a broken halo
all of the flashing red lights were singing xoxo,
but they should have been singing in my
eyes SOS.

the quiet ones are the lonely
the humble ones are usually the broken
the brightest smiles have the darkest shadows
the loudest laughs make the silence of their nights
as the ones you build up as having everything in order,
are the lives of people slowly falling apart.

The solid dreams on a liquid mind,
My sober thoughts captive me into change
I'm no far better than my past self, and my current
self grows jealous of it's future self
Still,- I'd like the in between of my life,
To find the very peace of mind, to piece together
the achievements I hope for:

1. To build my life on a better foundation;
as found on the steps of what it takes to start afresh

2. To work at a better job, while I get to use
such that are my talents
Whether employed or self employed;
clearing all my deafening debts, and always the
dream of my poetry being published.

I'm ready to start self publishing my work.

3. I want to take better care of my parents,
and be able to get them on medical aid, and a
funeral policy and in a good old age home. For from
the life that they gave me, a fulfilling life for them is
what I will return.


4. I want to find my partner that will one day be my wife.
But I want to be the right person for the right person I need.
For we seek often many times something we do not have.
Still find that still unfound, and wait as it attracts
what you need.

The blessings of peace, are of course
written in these comforting words.
And to all, I speak a blessing of peace to you.

Tell me the difference between loving you and loving myself,
The answer:
I'd tend to love one of them more
Though an addiction to myself is really a lead into self pleasure, and an addiction to someone else is just lust
tell me what's the difference between loving you and loving myself,
The answer:
I'd tend to love one of them more
I'd probably hate my right hand, cos my left hand tends to do me better, but is that the right to cut off who I hate more in the end, if it's attached to my being?
Same as loving you; I'm left with no right to claim that I own you; but aren't we attached by the hip if your hips had swayed me into being inside of you.
tell me what's the difference between loving you and loving myself,
The answer:
I'd tend to love one of them more.
In the emptiness of my eyes, I see a fuller picture,
so picture me as someone you force yourself to like
What if I seemed like a nice guy in your eyes, and while they're shut, you pictured me as someone else, so vile
tell me what's the difference between loving yourself and loving my self.
The answer:
you could die for both of us,  but only one would truly be willing to do both.

Sleep is an endless journey,
only the dead can complete
Time is the fortune you can never
afford to have enough of
Love is the tie dye of the different
worn out emotions, of the shirt you say
Faith is the picture frame of the
final art piece, you hope will be portrayed
And sin is the spilled ink on a paper;
the more you try to wipe off yourself, the more
stains you're still left to see.

We live for any few more seconds of sleep,
constantly on this life's limited time to do it all
Trying to have a consistent abstract pattern  of our love
always picturing what our faith can paint in the end
Yet we are all stained by our born sin,
                    -we are truly humans till the end.

I'm a basket case,
with nothing more to eat, but just the chip on my shoulder
I feared never making it close to twenty one,
to now my biggest fear of getting anymore older
I live on borrowed time,
asking the many second favours from the clock on the wall
And to have myself to chin up,
counting all the hairs on it; feeling insecure when I count them all.

I'm no role model,
but know the act of a fool, smiling through their pain
At the awkward age,
of not being young or old enough to fit in adulthood's frame
But through the window of my eyes
you see I'm made of glass through hurt of my window pane
I had a brush with death,
but quickly swept the fear of dying under the rug of tomorrow
As if I live for all of today,
yesterday's always feel much simpler, knowing what to follow

I'm no leader,
when I feel battered on my social battery made out of led
I'm a foe to myself,
overthinking most times, as anxiety tends to be a friend.
I'm a double entendre,
humorous as an awkward smile much brighter in the dark
I'm an oxymoron,
double checking every meaning to anything closest to my heart

              I'm a calm demeanor, with a messy mind,
                 tidying my words before speaking something foul
                       at most, more of a human's human inside
                             born of the birds and the bees,
                          flying high in my dreams, as my mind is fowl.

You act as a fatherless child,
Far less better than your own pride
In amongst life's streets,
Crying dirt out of your concrete eyes
But even if taking my heart was as easy
As taking back all of the time,— I'd be stuck in the past,
As two beings living out of a bag, suckling on our dreams
Hanging off time, as we pass the time with painful laughs
Under the laces of when you feel so sure of yourself,
So full of yourself, from swallowing all of the fears you had.

Love is always a resounding banter,
Battering you into a nostalgic feeling,
But by the second and third attempt,
You'll still be comparing it to the first's feeling
As once upon a time, you were on my mind,
But what's a neverending story, is chasing after forever,
And ironically for us, forever is all but on limited time.

          XOXO, please cross me out of love, before there's.            
                                    another ex, I'd pretend not to know.

my skin grows red hot,
and slowly warms the blue hue
of your skin
-your shy lips quiver under my
breath, closing into that kiss's embrace
to the open tongue of twisting our words
intertwining fingers in your scroll of hair
as the  parchment  of your grace, is written
all over your face.

oh so beautiful,
for i must have been struck from
behind, in a catching thought, i became
so caught up while staring at your curves
at the mountains peak of your structured body,
i'm always trying tp climb into those sheets
to have just a peep.

and as the taste of you, becomes
the sweetest nectar, i solely desire
-blowing the butterflies in your belly,
i'm barely intimidated by the moans
of pleasure; as it all becomes the sounds of
permission to add pressure.

at the bite of a tip, the dripping taste
must of course be licked off, in a
tasteful manner like ice-cream
so as i scoop you up, know there's
always a spoonful of kisses to feed
all of your words.

so tell me if lightening ever strikes twice,
cos according to my likeness, i
learnt how to strike a nerve of pleasure
at a constant, once i have it on my sights
so a simple answer would suffice,
or really something much simpler, when it's a
           wink, wink, and blush, blush.

I've been crying my eyes shut,
i could barely see the world,
-failing to see myself in a mirror
reflecting on how my fragile state is
made of glass.

I tried to be ahead of myself,
but wasn't on top of a lot of things,
so i behead myself, just to cut off old thoughts
and i could have sold my soul, but i tend to
sell myself short; as i can no longer pour
out my feelings,- i guess i'm too poor.

I hope I at least pass through people's thoughts,
but i know i'm a bit too passive, and make
passes on all of my best quotes
and i'm always stuck in one particular
moment,  like an old photo.

I tried to sleep with my thoughts,
but i've got a restless kind of mind
waking up to the days, of another sleepless night
nowadays when i pray less, cry less
and don't seem to care about my midlife faith crisis
when i'm doing things that make me seem Christless
still i wouldn't advise this.

I know my attitude don't always match
my soul's latitude; especially when
everything in my life goes south
as the magnitude of my worth, puts me
in a foul mood,- i played a foul move
flying my cold heart away from winter,
but still had a fowl kind of love.

I haven't been to church in a while,
telling myself, "I'll be there Sunday"
But I misheard myself, he was really
saying, "someday, someday"
Work always calls me in, before Mondays,
and Mondays are so mundane
every feels the same, the same; please can
i feel something, something, someday.

tell me if i wasn't drunk,
as you took off your shirt
i was seeing double
-chastise me for a bit ill thought,
as i'm easily falling in love to be love sick,
so needy as the shaking feeling
by my knees

the ecstasy; a love drug,
bitten by the tooth of desire, on my fragile
skin; by a love bug
so insert me in your happy place,
in between the gates of love and pleasure
the left and right of your hinged legs

i'm unhinged; sort of crazy in love
crazy enough to admit i'm in love
so admit me to a psychiatric ward.

Beautiful nightmares,
the dreams of logos on my shirt
-more like holes to aim at my heart
And I must of had a bold kind of thought,
when I let you cut all of my hair that night
So funny how I used to think of suicide,
but it must be a crime at your place,- I'll sue that side
And so ironically, I would love to die by your side.

I'll feed on your food for thought,
a staple meal; as I'm hooked on you
Pinned to your worth, with a tight staple,
balancing in between the time of keeping a relationship stable.

"I love you utterly more than the words to utter,"
are the words I'd enjoy to say, but do pray tell
Cos I know you can read about love, but could you spell,
the words of the charm it takes, of the magic of a love spell.

                        I know I'm not in love, but I'd like to be.

The end of something,
could very well be the beginning
of something better. And as I close over
a chapter in my life, I'm still open to what comes next.

Oh how so; a purest death wish is only in the form
                                                  of dying in your sleep.

To live your piece of life, and to leave in peace,
                 but to leave those you love, in pieces.

And as I blend the time into those final kisses,
 I've come to find the bitter taste of death,
 dark, black; -as like a piece of black liquorice.

Though I'd like to hope I had a few good licks
until the end, the end isn't a place, nor another story.

The end of it all really comes to nothing,
And so will another lifetime begin.
For from the very nothingness,
began the beginning of it all.

Constant wrinkles in their eyes,
These eyes that have seen a world's ***** laundry
All of which has been rinsed in the tears of time,
An ungodly sight; so long and behold
As you've lived your life by an act, without a role
Preying on your failures, and worshiping them as a Lord.

Life is but a place of all the prettiest butterflies,
Burning red; and dangerously bright as the desires in an eye
We all fail to see anything less important, than what makes
Us seem much more important, than all others in our lives
Death will always be that whisper, that only the dead
Will truly know what it speaks
And as the piece of yourself tears itself away from mortal flesh;
I do pray you find an immortal peace.

You'll soon be forgotten in due time,
Wiped away from existence, as we wipe away your memory
With a smile over your life, in these soon to be funeral tears.

                                                I fear I must bid you all goodbye.

As I lay my head upon your tender cheeks,
they become my comforting cushions,
cradling my mind as I drift into sleep.

The melodies of soothing lullabies
resonate deeply within my weary eyes,
carrying me into the promise of a new day.
In the intimate embrace between us,
a damp and intimate space, I find myself
irresistibly drawn to the alluring scent of your essence.

It beckons me, enticing me
to lose myself in the depths of your gaze,
to become completely consumed by the beauty
that lies within you.

As talk is always cheap,
even with the most expensive words
And I could never sum up enough of the
words, to tell you all of your worth.

                So sort of speak, let's just quietly cuddle.

As the curtains draw to a close,
it's always best to mind your manners,
Clear your throat before you start
to cough and cause a stir.
But if clearing your throat was
a punishable offense,
You might as well brighten up
the room with a warm smile.

I keep words to myself
as like the presence you keep
and present it to a word in small portions
-as the presents I have, as it's gift
present thoughts that soon become
a presentation for the future,
as your strength at times challenges the weak
In a period of how long I should respond
to hateful words; I know at times it takes
about a week.

Constantly saying, "I'm fine, I'M FINE,"
as shown to a man, as a pricey kind of
response, and ticket to nothing close to
freedom, and depression being it's fine
As I've tried to propel myself forward
into a fake kind of happy, one row at a time,
Still I'm likely stuck in the line of my own
frustrations, and waiting to picked out of
that row.

Still call me a sinner,
someone to at least say, "I've seen it all"
maybe to have sin for all
I should have said no, but I'd use that
careless phrase, "I didn't know, I DIDN'T KNOW."

                   Nah, my subconscious always knew it all.

Invisible crosses,
crossing out the days I
had no faith
As if monsters don't already
live in my head,- making me question
if I'll ever be heading in the right direction
From feeling like a dusty old Bible,
unattended to, and in servitude to to
most of my unclaimed confessions.

Could have been close to the ties
of me looking for change from the tithes
But I'll live a quarter of a mile, on
a quarter of my minds tank
I'm a bit too tanked to give anymore thanks,
any more funks, to dance around an n for
the wrong spelling of empty, and make
out as something you should c,- I have no ***** to give.

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.

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.

Confined to my own mind'
-thoughts start to feel claustrophobic
While thinking of all the prettiest of things,
the pettiest of emotions are made of thorns,
And I picture them as a bundle of roses,
as I longed of chasing every dream, before
the crack of dawn, but in between all of those cracks,
All of those very dreams have left me broken.

The loneliest place, -is like not missing home
yet never truly finding happiness in my current
surroundings; as if one wasn't the loneliest  number,
I at times find myself living it all for two,
carrying the weight of solitude for both.

Still hoping I could grow wings to fly above
all of my troubles.

But instead, the days grew colder,
and I found myself caught in the clutches of a flu.
A reminder that even in the depths of my own mind,
I couldn't escape the harsh realities of life.

I was never blessed with a sporting gene,
always lagging behind in any physical activity.
As people used to say that I had a tendency
to run away from responsibilities,
as if my lack of athletic prowess was
somehow indicative of my character.

I never had a knack for understanding
mechanical things either, always struggling
to grasp the intricacies of how things worked.
So please bear with me, as I continue to work
on improving myself in this regard.

Communication has never been my strong suit either.
I never raised my voice enough to be heard,
often fading into the background
and finding solace in the silence.
It's in those moments of complete stillness
that I feel most at ease, away from the chaos of the world.

And then there's the topic of intimate conversations.
I never quite grasped the art of discussing
the more adventurous aspects of relationships.
It's not that I'm prudish or judgmental,
it's just that I never received the proper guidance
or education on the matter.
So, it's no wonder that I struggle to engage
in discussions about the more unconventional
aspects of intimacy.

And whenever I was called to the table,
I was labeled as the spoiled favorite.
However, as the youngest in the family,
I have grown accustomed to living off the scraps
left behind by my older siblings.

In the midst of a somber scene,
When emotions weighed heavy, it seemed,
Tears began their gentle stream,
Each drop carrying a taste, like morning's gleam.

These tears were not shed in haste,
But rather, in due time, they graced,
A heart burdened by life's uncertain race,
Seeking solace in his tears, and their vulnerable embrace.

As they flowed, his fractured reflection appeared,
Eyes once hopeful, now shattered and seared,
A mirror of pain and confusion, it cleared,
Inner turmoil, in hidden tears, was revealed.

In this moment of deep introspection,
Tears tasted like time's poignant reflection,
A reminder to let go, to find direction,
Like morning dew, cleansing the soul's connection.

And so, his tears marked a turning tide,
A gentle nudge towards healing's side,
Embracing vulnerability, as his tears implied,
Growth, renewal, a stronger self to abide.