Love is a rush
but to what end of fools rushing to fall in love? Hearts to be pacing in the presence of your love; still there are those running to break another heart.

Breaking and entering,—
all those stolen heart's to never fall in love again. Conversations of us just being friends; putting up these walls of defence. Oh how maddening it is, to know there's no ****** for your heart, to defend yourself from love sickness. It is wicked, as all our crushes can leave us in pieces.

Still a love in pieces, can build you high towers of towering over love,
or cowering over love.

typing... backspace
     typical really, when he always second guesses
what he really wants to say; what feelings to relay

idling pointer... thinking
it's a no brainer, if you can imagine the art of what to say,
                         your heart can be it's paint

select all.. delete
"no, I'll just tell her how I feel another day"

the secret slip of underwear
he was caught off guard; unaware
widened mouth and could only stare
gazing at her pond of ten thousand sounds,
how easy could it be,— a bit too fishy
knowing he wasn't the first to go skipping a
few rocks

but as a rock in a hard place
between a devilishly charming smile on her face,
she was, "a good friend's friend"
and he thought that made them "just friends"

and not one to play cliches
"i don't want this," he made it as clear to say
in that room at night, he wasn't interested in her,
and it was clear as day

he came only to help pen down a study report
but perhaps the con of hoping there'd be much
concentrate; were the first letters
written by her, wanting to spill ink in a little *******

                        click!

that idea was well tucked away and hidden,
like the tip of his favourite silver pen.

like a piece of gum spat onto the concrete
—some of us that are still stuck to the streets
without any real reason to look for love;
just being trampled by stranger's feet

like a fly on the wall, seeing it all in
a private room
hovering over flesh, and trying to make small talk
out of a conversation already dead
reading into all these pointless conversations;
all spelling doom

tell me why I'm holding onto you, and still losing control
with all the stars in your eyes, galaxies and planets
it will always be us being so many worlds apart

"Mummy"
screams a child running into her room
"I have an owie,— a boo boo"
a child that runs into her room, is running
into her care

The cherished love, cheery smile of it,
and being patient as the cherry on top

"Mum"
miraculous unconditional marvel,
the superhero of wonders in the kitchen
At times a quiet disciplinary in public, with
a sharp eye of a cutting glare

          Later at home you'll be in trouble...

She is love, often not loved enough
even though; her love is more than enough
And can never be undone

"Mummy, mum, or just ma"
she is all, she is a mother

Tucked away smile;
biting cheek, and a little cheeky gaze

"we can still be friends"
he bravely chose to say

Benefitting mostly from your company,
just to have somebody, but not a someone
just to have something, but from it nothing...

.

Two lover's body language,
not so good with words in between kisses
The then after; it's likely me ending it
off,— just awkward laughter
Taking bites on the dictionary to feed
my diction

          "I was lost for words
                after our very first kisses"

hiding behind the tears in your eyes,
crying while you sleep; ten thousand
wet dreams

swimming pools for eyes,
drowning in those regrets. baptized by time
catching up on your love for cigarettes

chimneys for lungs, and a smoker's paradise
where all wear black atire
always wanting to con science of your conscience,—
never too concise, to tell the next person
of next person you like

and waiting so patiently for someone
to make you their wife
all with the pretend make-up to make up for your
appearance that makes them think twice

                  "I hope you find true love this second time"

quarries of thought
turning a mind to stone
all those queries of fears;
quickening heartbeats from working my
livelihood. it all makes my worth it's home

and at a time I'm alone
i don't feel as low, underneath the opinions
of those less understanding
to so many people's branding; my many social suicides
of conversations left hanging
and always feeling like an unanswered call;
with all those intrusive thoughts constantly ringing

        repeat, repeat, rinsing out old dreams
        trying to stretch what time I have to achieve them
                 "time is made up of unpredictable wrinkles"

yet strangely enough, I have so much time
to love and hate people.  in part to be part of party people
going a couple few rounds with a rowdy group
and pretending to be like you, and playing what's left
of my youth

feeling always as the
alone, depressed, antisocial, introvert
in every room

Emptiness—
filled in the the echoes of loved ones prayers in this void

First a handshake with Death;
a firm grip of arm wrestling between her and Life

A tightening chest, running a marathon of a racing heart
Twas I, chasing after a lost final breath

And drawing a line in the sands of time;
a flatline, revive, and a second try
                
                     "How it feels to die"

Trees wither, as like the branches of your hair
Blonde moments of all the blonde jokes we used to share

                       Oh how I miss loving you so freely,
                       as the wind blowing in your hair

"Shoot your shot"
love at times can feel like a long shot in the end
Those with red flags spell trouble in bold letters;
bold enough to conquer your feelings with the phrase,
                                                      "we're just friends"

"Take your chances"
falling in love isn't as close to falling in love by chance
Past lovers without fathers, searching for a man in their life;
as you stand out of the crowd—seemly different,
                                         "best to keep to your stance"

Not everything that looks good,
is as good as it comes—not good enough
Quick charms are magical in those moments,
but could spell danger. So if you meet someone as
close to being imperfectly perfect...RUN!

Seems I've already been here before,
searching endlessly in a void
A man trapped by the eyes of those who still see a boy

I guess I'm still yet to grow

There's an echo bouncing off the wall; back and forth
Swinging by, and whispering a sweet lie;
it could be the monsters, or just the voices in my head

Either way,
none of those sounds playing,
leaves me feeling a little bit scared

I should say a prayer,
but I've preyed on so much precious time,
I'm only left chasing the few seconds I have left
While being stuck in between an acute happiness,
and all the feelings of being depressed

There isn't an angle to explain how loudly
I want to scream at people's faces
Describing the colours of their aura,
mostly in their displaying hatred

But then again,
it may come out a little racist

I've come to find myself writing love letters to the dark

And the result:

the ugliness of the morning
to see such a beauty, of my dark art

                       ...bite your tongue,
                          as there are no other words
                          to speak of this
  
Just quietly shut your mind,
and open your eyes

                             This is the unholy piece

The wind and the sweetness
in the mix of this somewhat chilly day
I ordered an ice cream waffle; waiting
on my order while waiting on a gaining thought

I’ve gained peace, that which I thought impossible
Watching the passerbys, with a full mouth of ice cream
And behind it’s stain, was a genuine smile

In amongst the chaos of the random wind,
the jumping cheers of children on a jumping castle
The happy scary clown with white on his face
The flies trying to share in on my dessert,
and the eyes of those who had seen me alone

—I wasn’t alone;

Quite frankly I was far from feeling alone,
and feeling any kind of low

As with the tingling chills down my spine
of this really filling meal
It was to me, a moment so real;
I wouldn’t dare pinch myself to see if I was dreaming

And even if it were a dream,
twas a sweet one indeed
As all I needed was:
spoiling myself with something sweet indeed

How do our lips
closely rhyme with kiss,

In between a tongue with a hiss,
to submit so foolishly to this bliss

Ignorance as it is;
equally split in those slithering words
mixed with both our spit

All those beautiful wet lies, a crime we love
to speak in a stolen kiss

I’ve got an itch on my mind
Trying to scratch out all that ill intent,
Sickening words, and vomiting out my anger
Screaming in my head, bouncing echoes of a shallow mind

Though I’m always in deep thought,
Over internalizing, self sizing with the daily voices
Conspiring, in these confines of a usually trapped thought

A hand of ****; guilty pleasure, and ***** ideas
And always wanting to touch it all,
Still as someone who hasn’t been touched at all,
More or less of what you call a touch of love
When a so called love, has molested your mind;
Wondering if the way you act is ideal, or just you replaying
your abuser’s ideas

As I bought myself a licence to keep my drive
Sometimes I feel my dreams lead me in the wrong direction
As pride is a weapon; whether you it point at people or yourself
There’s always a direction to point your shots,
Make your point and leave your mark in the world
Just be careful of your mind; not to deep dive into too many
thoughts, and try your best to keep straight with your drive.

The echo of silence; in amongst it's violence
A flower that represents himself; I am a violet
In a dream of roses, sitting in the concrete,
I'm paved in all those resting memories

            ...I am a beautiful dream

...Alas;
life is the word in itself
we live long, knowing not everything will last

...Alas;
the ringing sirens of heaven's bells
to only hear redemption after a hell of a life
I've spent my best hours on one hell of a night
one hell of a high; to rise above all of my trials

And surely to an unsure
to pity a fool; leaving love for the fools
Alas by chance, love is exactly that
so too is life—we live life by chance
And only by chance are we to express this
gift/grief of life; all in letting out a sigh.

                                        ...Alas

And in a fading dream
lost in a forest of nostalgia
Winds singing the days of old,
new to present, unlike when we were younger
Imagination it was; playing house in the yard,
imagining how we'd be as adults
Building our lives out of moulds of mud

...it's makes me laugh in tears,
of how much we've lost
from when we were young

All our memories of before
Childhood trauma; too young to escape
Or able minded to put condoms on our eyes,
To protect our sights from a mind ****

I could see you clearly after dark,
A place you and I are from; tunnel vision
Trying our best to run to the end of that light
I must have forgotten the taste of a bright smile,
In a summer; summoning up the words to summarise
All the reasons why I’ve fallen in love with you again today

Comprehension; my comprehensive spending
On all the times I picked your interests
Late night texting in secret, sexting at times
And of course it being so risky; we were together
To help each other put back our pieces

The loneliest people, alone in a crowded room
One touch for two, three extra shots
When I’m drinking it all for you
By the four count of a beat;
Causing my heart to beat like a drum
And counting five reasons to hold your hand tightly

           ...mmmh, is this a feeling of love
           or a feeling of finally being loved?

A master calls on an international call,
as your visa card declined; no more flying in all your love dreams
Using a MasterCard to pay for smiles; but your smiles are fairy tale,
with all those Cinderella moments of wanting to go to a ball
Go out in the world, and have your heart stolen by a Robin hood,
for you once had a rich worth, but love treated you in poor tastes
And you never found the right steps to fall in love again,—never
fitting into that glass shoe

You were a snow white in pieces,
with a dress stained in blood; not as pure as before
Your prince charming left you in creases
pressed on you—as not all first impressions are like
that waking kiss. It’s often best to remain sleeping

As human instinct holds onto a past with a hand of hook,
we’re pirating on old joys. I love to recall the honeymoon period of
relationships. When the honey was still sweet, and sweet nothings
blocked my ears from all the buzzing bees.
I enjoyed that type of love, where we’d communicate constantly,
and speak to each other across a room, with just a look

My only want, is to love someone not for their value
in my life, but what value they have for themselves
And not on the ways they’d  show me a beautiful appearance
only in secret, — I won’t love you in secret!
Let down your hair, so I can climb the towers of your thoughts,
my only Rapunzel; it’s only for me to play with your hair
And firstly loving you as a friend, before I ever made you a wife
I’d cherish the treasures of your eyes, the gold hidden in a sight,
never buried from the world, — I won’t love you in secret

As love is fairy tale; only for the few to author
a better conclusion

Narrating their values, fears, and boundaries,
and in this composition of expectations,
least expect that happily ever after final kiss

Cos love is a risk, an untameable beast
that takes less of those outward appearances,
and rather what you’re willing to put in

      ...XOXO, choose and make out how you want the story to go.

The softest echo of a heart
Are passions of someone with a secret to love
To express themselves in a manner that feels unmannered
For what I have to say feels like a ***** secret;
Something that would sound so risky

In person, I’m the furthest away from indecent
Still with the right mind set,
I could say things to leave you in pieces
And with a deep sense,
I’d whisper deeply all my unholy secrets,
Wishing for you on my wish list, that I wrote in secret

Like what forms a word, I’ve been well informed
To know that what I say is my target, I make it a goal
Whether whole or hole; there’s always a choice to take
Your servings in full, or to be left hollow in your words after

It could start with laughter, from tickling kisses that go
Up and down; to a crown of piercing sharp licks of head,
But instead the game goes well, by one being pleased and teased
And the shaking of a headboard from shaking knees

Yes indeed, a good loving is hot;
And a good reason for us being caught up in this heat
So don’t forget to breathe; but also know there’s no retreat
As a bedroom isn’t a place for the weak, caught in sheets
And neither for anyone to sound off their moans as meek

It’s a storm of passion; calm for a beginning,
Before the roars of thundering clapping gates
The pours of rain in the sweat dripping down your face,

Without haste, I shall bite the bullet after it’s taste
Another round, another round; shots of chance to pierce through you
A scar so deep,—a memory of last night,
replaying for tomorrow

...last night’s events,
where as eventful as I’d hoped for in this 10:45 hour

I'm happy
burning fiery joy in a chest
Light hearted; ready for the day
"bring on the pain," we only grow through hurt
Human nature is a rose;— sometimes sharp words
of our heart's thorns.

Growing pains through the sores,
"I love the hurt," to feel my worth
a jewel indeed, jubilant as any could believe
Filled with glee, and like a tree blowing carelessly
in the wind —I feel free, and so happy to be free

As the sun rising; feeling on top of the world
kissing summer for her pretty girl
My smiles are bright; outside, outside, out side
out sigh— sigh, here comes the night



...setting day,
I'm upset, "I don't know why"
my heavy eyes, without a load of reason to cry

starring at a wall,
the curtains creeping cracks, excessively
kicked to the side, now it's kicking in; my OCD

everybody hates me,
..I hate myself, corrections to say I underrate myself
overrate my existence,— feel like a disappointment of a Christian



Ugh, growl, and a bark
my mind is stuck, angry and frustrated
What the duck! Flying words, and saying
a few foul words. I'm ******, but *******
by the wrong tree. Tried to mark my territory
warning myself in the shouting silent voices,
     "they should fear my bite over the unheard bark"

Nobody is listening, only the fiery demons poking
the fireplace of my anger. Life is an unbalance to find balance
No-one explained the rules, no-one gave me the chances or
explained the answers. I'm being tested; ****** are
testosterone filled. Ugh, clicking my fingers, clenching
jaw and fists. To many outward thoughts, might not breath in.
                   "about to explode in this imploding anger poking"

Eyes rolled back; cocking back my words
About to shoot down heaven with some harsh speak
A prayers afterwards, without feeling any peace
I'm pisssed, I'm ******, I'm ******; please don't try a
piece of me. Piece me together as a parton of war,
physics of battle, guns and aiming to blow
            "so **** angry, but not enough words"


But wait, I'll be happy by the morning.

Ugh..hanging body
hanging on threads;
tied around feeling tired
My eyes feel like a fire, trapped
in a package of my baggy eyes

Ugh...I paid extra tips for the
night before. Woke up feeling tipsy
The night before felt a little too risky
dealing with the heavy whispers of someone
saying they want to kiss me

Ugh...the day tastes ugly
and I really feel funny
Thankfully I was in good company
enjoying the good old days for a younger me
But now the daylight is chewing me up
and the loud sounds of day swallows me up

Ugh...Sunday hangover
Monday feels so close to the touch,
and I'm hoping for that day of work
I don't wake up feeling rough

July babies, falling in the
atmosphere of a beauty's sight

In a line, a straight answer to say
you're so beautiful

But as usual, a beautiful sight causes
a man to lose his words

To sell his worth
to afford the confidence to talk to you

But as usual, the fool struck by beauty;
is lightning striking twice

...so all he can say is,

"hey you look really nice"

A storm of words
I'm washed by a rain of you
reigning on my mind

You rule every thought,
—a queen, and desirable factor
My smile towards you is filled with laughter

Like finding comfort
in the comforting words of a stranger
Feels strange to be trapped by my eye of one's beauty

But I guess I'd enjoy my eyes being a camera;
capturing every beauty sight of you.

Roaring dandelion,
nature's bravery
are the flowers still brave to grow

—in cold, hail; and the result
after a storm. Often bruised, split
and torn; atone to it's fragile state
it is not a slave to a fearful fate,

And if the fragile flower
chooses to be brave
what stops you too from
choosing that way?

Oh soul, my soul
where shall we go
At the crossroads; feels like
I have no other place to go

Oh soul, my soul
countless demons want this soul
As they count less of us, all out for someone's soul
—they want my soul, they want my soul
And I'm afraid I don't have the strength to say no

Oh soul, my soul
I don't want the world's gold;
just the means and tools to make my own
I don't want the entire world;
just a place I built on my own, and to call home
I don't want to feel alive with success;
just feeling some worth, and die peacefully alone

Oh soul, my soul
is it worth a soul
—is it worth our soul?

"I don't know, I don't know
I'm still waiting for a bad deal with the man
waiting for me at Death's crossroads"

Loving you is like being kissed by the stars
A whole galaxy of experiences,
Caught in between that space,
—legs that are wrapped around a face
Our hair—a complete mess, and I must confess
that the taste of you is a taste of cosmic prowess
And I’m always stuck on loving you for hours

As is our nature, we who dwell on this earth
I’ve now learnt that your natural waterfall flows
After I’ve treated your wet flower source with a timely worth

A slow tease creeps up and down your skin
Your arched knees are a resting ground before another
journey of my tongue. As the sweetest taste is a taste of fun

By the skin of teeth, are the few bite marks
I’ve left here and there. Your digging fingers in my hair,
Is all the pain you and I have to share.

It all seems fair.
You’re lost for words, choked up by fiery passion;
my gentle hand around your throat
And this rule of thumb; is the one you love to bite on
An aggressive action, but never to be passive

It’s 945, and quarter close to ten
Usually the time we should be resting in bed
But instead, I’m resting my tongue in you

                         It tastes like a perfect end

Urgency, urgently
his lungs filled with surgery
Ashes of the past, dust till dawn
a cigarette of time burns memories on a tongue

Six pills on the bedside,
six day preparations to feel alive
—secretly wanting to die
He tied himself with his everyday necktie
that suffocating work tie; as he hates his life
he wants to die, but can only dye his hair
to decorate all his despair

The 645 alarm echoes the day's hardships
he's a mind full of everybody's problems
Always longing, and wondering if his
life became as a cult following;
Blowing consequences of a fan for insecurity
usually when you secure yourself in a tone of
crool; they'd love to give you cruelty

..I tell you,

this isn't a random man's story
it's of how life loves to bully me

Dying to stay young
dying young is dying inside
I could feel the chains in a perfect smile
and always feel that shame inside their eyes

I'm dying to speak the words
—I keep swallowing my pride
And how do I compare myself to a
much more successful guy
Writing all the words it seems,
but they don't read in between the lines

     ...how to tell those who don't listen,
                                 I'm not doing fine

Line marks on a face
probably their first good rest
Their events of yesterday;
she'd undress to address a situation
While he's given the address to her favourable location

"Where's the shame in a little pain,"
she had casually asked him
He seemed a little passive before his passion
"I prefer asking for consent," he told her, as he's old fashioned

"But I could imagine things I could do,
things I could never speak of; let alone speak to you
Not be rude— I'm sort of new to showing my other side
a beast inside, and my *** drive runs along a journey of being wild"

And just like a hoodie after ***,
she's worn out, anxious at the start, but now out of breath
"There's no need to pretend, in like those Nikes; I already checked
that you'd step out of your comfort zone, and just do it
At first I was a bit clueless; but that first hit was the first hint

...And if you ever feel shy to be yourself in public,
just show me yourself in secret
Your identity doesn't need to belong to the world,
you belong to me— your Mrs!

inkless
hopeless,
towing a straight line
in a numbness of not knowing what to write
inspiration—like chasing a dream
though it's reality is me resting on a Writer's block street

no peace
no peace
no peace!

on knowing days before
I could write with such ease

welcome to a bad religion
peers in pews of being a Sunday Christian
quoting common scripture;
commonly known as Bible bashing criticism
in an imperfect world criticizing you
for not being this perfect Christian

wishing Godspeed to those who rush
to that umbrella answer; "you don't pray enough"
living in the reigns of worship being entertainment for a heart
some blocking their ears from being cut by words
by a sermon so blunt

but how do you build strong character on soft words
and how could you test their foundation, without some force
as after you pray for patience; the devil loves to test
those desiring words, by a day feeling like the worst
still you forgot Jesus had spoken about woes

...doesn't it seem as far too see; modern Pharisees
we who speak about God, but do not love God
we who preach lively about God, but in with a dead heart
we who sacred a temple, but just because of their objects
we who teach a law, but not practising in turn those words
we who appear clean in public eyes, but so ***** in secret
we who act righteous, but hold onto a shaking hand with unrighteous
we who defend a reason not to ****, but ****** another in ill speak

...it's only a bad religion,
to us being such a bad representative

Oceans and tides; oh to see the lines of time

A clear glass from the inside; sands to the days of our lives

It pushes and pulls, washed in a before and after
children alongside running under the sun—a teared laughter

We are young and wild as the sea;
a moment we feel alive, and free —seasonal highs and lows
time is young and moves slow. But it will eventually grow

Hurricanes, and cyclones on the wayside, I see destructive eyes

A man is wicked by his pride; to prize what some despise
never to admit fault to it's mind. Oh never mind!

...his land is home, a poem
unheard clearly in the distance of ocean birds
Would you prefer us as lakes, but it's late to see
every man is deeply drowning in their own seas

Is he free, or swims endlessly
till they can't swim no more
            oh who really knows

To a starving child
would you offer food for thought
To a mute
would you offer a caring word
To a quadriplegic
would you offer a step ahead
To an insomniac
would you offer them a bed
To a shadow
would you offer it shade in the summer
To a drum
would you offer a beat for unnecessary drama

But no on a serious note; we're offering things
often to force ourselves in offing our heads/
—overthinking a gesture, is as good as to pretend

Playing your mind in chess,
a game of war that none can escape the draft
We're checkers until we're being examined for our past
Imploding cringey memories; a grenade for a present/
all the gifts beforehand a thought's delivery; all pre sent

Pretty less, on feeling less after the care I get
sort of a mind set to care less, seeming careless
on revaluating any of my regrets:
Hurricanes for past events, destroyed by past missteps
...tell me what's next, and what to expect?

Offer me a starving child,
and I'll feed them well in help,
and knowledge to never starve again
Offer me a mute,
and I'll voice their pain in an echo,
that simple words can't explain
Offer me a quadriplegic,
and I'll take the steps to help them
stand proudly on their outstanding worth
Offer me an insomniac
and I won't rest until they find a lost comfort
of all their dreams, spoken on with ill words
Offer me a shadow
and I'll shed light on the dark corners
of not only myself, but those lost in darkness
Offer me a drum
and I won't beat around the bush, on
making a load roar of one's injustice

                 ...these, these are all my world offerings

All the beautiful mansions
with ugly resident
I sort of care less for those who
use their money so careless
But I'm still a little jealous, envious
of how I believe I could do any better/

Grasshopper antics; devouring the land's
crop of provisions
Treason so close to betraying a brother for
his treasure —none is as precious as the black jewel
eye seeing another, and feeling envious

Wicked is he
a prideful man; mannered in the fashion
of a fraction of being rational
Factionalism, spilt in between the opinions
of having a poor attitude so rich
Or richly deserved of your worth in poor circumstances

...common denominator
always determined by a pocket
Costing less to be costed by what
we judge as wins, and whichever we choose to
remember as one's losses

But it's a worn out subject, of how we still
determine one's success by sizeable pockets