To no fault of my own, the little I own
To the words that ask me to conform.
I feel so alone—in the deep chasms of a petrified soul.

An open door, shut by a closed mind to make a move.
Unwillingness of that to do.

Oh what a world to live in.
Searching, always seeking; in the depths be,
Of a tempestuous sea. I still can’t swim.

So comes that sinking feeling again. I’m sinking in
Deepest thought to the very END. My always sinking
HEAD. Especially when pride gave you a big head.

120 miles away; at the speed of love close to decay.
And the sinner in, asks if you’re giving up that cake today.
I’m stuck in a parade, matching bands matching your
movements in those shoes. Revelry of gossip in front of friends
—excusing ourselves on calling it important news.

We’re no good, no good for each other.
But if we meet in Heaven, I might remind you how I was
once your lover.

The very first to add worth in your first kiss. To rest my
head besides your cheek. And finding it rude to call
you my chick, or to call you my b…

Still hard for me to say even in the things that past.
You could hate me more for knowing things wouldn’t last.
Staring at the half empty glass—filling ourselves on cheap laughs.
Cheap thrills, expensive meals on an empty pocket of a kid.

I was weird, I had a piece of a beard to appear grown.
The king of your heart, knowing Lucifer fell for trying to sit
on that wasn’t his throne. The crown turned into thorns.
I’ve been torn by unsaid words.

The unsaid truth, is I still love you now. But I’m foolishly
in love with a love long gone. 120 miles, so far away.
A distance so long.

To burn...in these echoes of warmth, the
warm regards, warmest hugs and a hello
of a long seen friend. Fires burns in my chest.

Till the face glows; in the light of a friendly
smile. We'll all be the stars under the sun,
deeming light of inspiration in their lives.
The lives of those lost in the dark—guide them
with your spark.

Soon my child...you'll find that match,
fuelling the already passionate flame of love.
To rest your burning eyes of desire on loving
your spouse by fireplace of your house.

We'll be dreaming of the stars set in our names,
searing the old till ash—enkindled in this hope
you'll find. The future is bright, at the end of the
tunnel is that shinning light. You've got the will
to survive. Keep up the good fight!

Blistering scars do come with time, in the degrees
of many scolding hurts. You were created well to
take the heat.

There's a fire in us all. A fire unlike no other,
there is a fire in us all. 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Slit wrists, stained kisses; the night of young
and dark thoughts to succumb. All at once, was
dreaming so fun, before the nightmare of daily life.
Surpassing the intent of suicide, staring at that
knife in pen. Then again—ink bleeds out onto
the paper's spread. ~the dark thoughts of my head.

Where I'll lie, laiden on a maiden I'd want to kiss,
a girl to call a Miss. And a softer wall to my fist.
Knuckles cracked in two by the bone; the flesh torn
as I'm fighting my demons on my own. ~what's the score?

                                         10-0

Ten of the times I feel like a zero, in the eyes
of imagining myself a comical hero. I'm a villain;
self antagonist in doubting my potential. Eggshell
walking steps from taking a risk. ~a little too careful.

Mediocre—the media oak of it's power to grow
in longevity, endurance. Enduring the worst parts
of me—in a Hell pit swallowing me. The burn marks
of scratching shoulders of the crowd to acknowledge me.
To be called a young Prodigy; ~with great honesty.

But honestly; I'm waiting for things not seasoned
in the time. In the directionless ways of a life with
no signs, or boundary lines I haven't drawn.
Covering a heel to bites of snakes slithering on my lawn.
If I got a loan for a night's success, what would the
world want in return? ~hopefully not my soul.

All my confessions; these deep depressions,
counting out my sins with the fingers of my blessings.
Hoping they aren't lessin, in the world's quick call to
change, is to keep on weaponing. ~wars are all we know.

Even the ones we never fought. We've been taught
how to fight back before the fighting began. Perhaps
we try our best at fighting alone. ~that's the way of
the world.

As the stars aligned, in constant of a Moon.
The dancing oceans; twirling and twirling in circles.
Eyes focused—on the horizons of waking under new Sun.
Warm as the lips that kissed me with it's light.

I did have a question of...there being a life in between;
Settling on the grey areas that are non existent?

The answer...

Life is simple as black and white, darkness and light,
As there's only good and bad. We fall only on one side.

To fall in love: would it be a good, or a bad experience,
To fall into depression: to inspire courage, or fears of dark,
To fall back: avoiding rebellious conflict, or being too comfortable,
To fall asleep: in the rest of hard labour, or sleeping on our dreams,
To fall out: of those pulling us down, or those who value us,

We fall only on one side. Which side do I choose to fall?

—an echo sword cuts through the sounds,
time is made of glass. Fragile as the brokenness
in pass.

—a dagger tilt into the chest. The very part,
where all sores dawn. Rising until you see
the pain appearing as heavy breathe.

—sheath; putting away sharp ends of past hurt.
Piercing deeply as longing to be free. The battle
is plenty, as the many who feel so alone.
You aren't the first!

In these blade works, working hard to survive,
on the killing of time. To bat an eye; swinging on
the looks of acting out of pride.

—it cuts anyone deeply, fighting to survive,
fighting in the many struggles of this LIFE.

Is it to hold a knife in defence, or attack,
the question of every human being.

Brush of grass,
the emptying winds of a clearing sky
I sit on my feet crossed under new Sun,
—a beautiful scene. Darling as you and I.

The first love,
best remembered that was found in youth
I covered you under the rest of my Love,
—a pillow covering. A trade of tooth.

Questing heroism,
searching for a knight of a tale of fairy
Dragons flaming voice he fights for a Princess,
—an expressive word. Impressions do vary.

So many ways to portray my love,
that of which strait tongue is narrow broken in two.
But in these complex feelings towards,
—I'll say it in simple. Darling I love you.

Heavy day shifts,
and comes the lonely night shifts.
Breathe the pheromones, the body tones,
ashes in a cloud—before we experience yesterday's rain.
Purest skins, and innocent eyes of the dirtiest brains,
thinking I'll do in myself, soon after doing you in.
Love has you sore in the chest; swept you swiftly with the
bruises on your knees.

Love is the air,
in the atmosphere of what we breathe daily.
Carelessly blowing in the wind; pieces stuck in your hair.
Like written messages on the wall, surrounding the
room's resting memories in crayon. You could count them all.
In deep chasms of emotions—I'm not only falling in love,
but also floating in the air. Love is the air.

It grips me by a click,
pointing at the sounds of my mouth without words.
Without too many girls, to express how I feel.
Or the dues to pay for new love experiences of someone
who could fit the bill.

She's in the air, along with the Heavens,
the birds and the bees. The mountain views, and the
closet reach I have to my dreams. Love is in the air,
but I wonder how far I'll have to jump to reach her,
(kiss her) My love remains stuck in the air.

I've never known how to romanticize,
so I just fantasize about you. In my dreams rules
a Queen~ she's decreed a picture into my eyes.
How your skin shines in the night; must be inner
beauty bright as your smile.

But how to put it all in words—like finding new
chords to a training song. I wonder if nowhere does
exist, and how far close to the edge are we close to
our love's end?

A descent into my descending thoughts;
downwards of all my hanging lows. Do bare with me
for being unlike those bare essentials...like yours.

I learnt to you love you quickly, soon after
cherishing you as a friend. With care, and trust
—in a world where the two are so rare.
I considered myself always there, as much I could.
Amongst dreadful woes, as an ear to your cries,
plunging into the seas of deep meaningful conversation.
I wiped those eyes, and comforted you in truth,
over the many lies.

I'd climb your mind, to measure distance of the sky
to prove your worth in timeless imaginings.
Let me remind you time and time again, constantly
—that you're a marvellous creation. I couldn't be your love,
but here I'll rest my loving affections as your family.

Valleys turn into hills, hills into mountains
Life into time, time into sands we from,
drifting oceans of waves—waters of before,
clouds at first.

Crush into love, first kiss into memories,
memories become experience.
Experiences into story—stories into legend,
and those new legends to be born.

Loneliness into depression, expression out
of hurt. Hurt into echoing words, words immortal.

Must life be like the butterfly;
birth, caterpillar that grows,
cocoon~ hidden in the dark.
And of course the beauty at the end.

                                Life is transformation

Snip, Snip,

Our youth: a graze of grass, in
youngest beauty' field;
lively, but withered under sun—
all heated moments we'll treasure,
as proof succession is time,
for a new to replace an old.

I'm not one at times to be easily loved, I'm also not one
you could quickly hate. I still appear afraid, even with a
brave face on. I could be romantic, but I might not have the
right words in person. I think a lot about ***, but feel comfortable
on the thoughts of still being a ****** (sometimes)

I'm not always moved by the crowd, or like to follow trends.
I'm photogenic, mixed with social anxiety amongst the unfamiliar
faces around. I barely raise my voice; sadly won't always be so manly.
I value family, though mine is so divided. Their subtle rude
humour is a form of love. I have it too, so I hope you don't mind it.

My music taste is a wide tongue of different genres.
Artic monkeys, Twenty one pilots, Frank Ocean, Kendrick Lamar,
Hippie sabotage, Bach, Earth Wind & Fire, and one or two songs
by Rihanna. I prefer to listen on my own—in the sense of bluetooth
speakers filling my anxious anxiety. At least with earphones on,         I feel free playing with full volume. And writing poems in great variety.

I'm learning to cope with long hugs, but just ease off from the
sides. It's a fight of being overly sensitive to touch; or me
liking those tingles at times. Or maybe I'm saving my sensitive
parts for a future wife. I try to swallow my pride, but it's like
a knife, cutting me from the inside. I've thought about suicide too
many times. Passions being only imaginative in my mind. A gift
with a curse behind, so unkind.

I'm unlike my father, only with his temper at better control.
They say my looks come from my mother; but my character
definitely is a mix of both.

I'm weird, humble, funny, emotional, girly (sometimes)
cautious, moody, caring, charismatic, shy, awkward, the worst
dancer (without a couple drinks in me) calm, wise, and still
finding out more about myself.

                                         Yep! That's basically me. (Messy Entirely)

Thin wire, overzealous leading to being over tired...
an over reliance on the hopes of being reinspired,
The burning thoughts; of a migraine constantly on fire.

Ten thousand shots in my head—ba, ba, ba, ba,
swimming over my depths, trying my best to breathe;
all the while in still waters choking my neck. Some live
too long...living a life of the dead.

I'm singing a song, better sounding inside—la, la, la, la,
It goes while I'm looking in the mirror, seeing myself and my
self enemy. Who's betting on their works, to seem like a better
version of themself/me?

Letting be of the many ways I try to appear calm in some days.
Hunger in my eyes; starved of the sights of true love.
But the dirtiest intentions, has my face fully covered in mud.
I give and give, but these returns are never enough.
But plenty are the voices in my head, battling constantly—blah, blah, blah, blah, as no-one else hears this cracking glass in my chest.

I figure we're all fragile figures, in the end.

I've been touched by....
the morning symphony orchestra of birds,
rain tickles dancing on asbestos roofing,
calm winds; of one gentle breeze plunging mangoes,
brown leaves rustling away for new to follow,
the sounds of life in the cheers of children's play,
oh—touching experiences of a beautiful day.

So as I speak...
I say to you—not to bite words of expression,
let the voice of life in your lungs be lively,
out a loud in the quieting despairs of often,
to the ears open to the sounds of hope acclaimed,
teach the young, and so too teach the old of extra portion,
the spirit of worth within us, echoes out in action,
letting those words you speak be in the physical,
in conscious, guided by Spirit—becomes lyrical.

                                And all in all, do it all with love.

A monkey's wedding: our elders told us
it was, each time it rained with the sun out.
Pink skies, white clouds, golden tears and
the good times of being young.

Tree climbing to touch the sky as high,
fruit picking, and stone skipping at turbid puddles,
The smell of after rains, wet grounds, dew tear drops;
all at the nights condescending condensation.

Chasing rainbows on rumours of Peter pan's hidden
treasures at the end. As a guileless manner supposed.
Sunlight creeping through cracks of clouds,
the remainder of light showers, reminisced in the mud.

Sculptures we'd try our best to carve,
playing house outside, under the upcoming sun,
And trying our best at reciting parent's love.

Tell me have you seen anything as beautiful,
as the beauties after the rain?

| Like lightning in your veins;
     you'll strike down the enemy
   The stars in your eyes;
      be with the brightness foresight
          
  The sun in your mouth;
    display summers in your smile

  All the beautiful things,
    all the while makes us all so beautiful

                                                I see beautiful people. |

Where  dreams  are
  under the tears of stars,
   my eyes  brittle brightsome;
    child-like manner-aforetime adult scars.

"And as I look above,
  cleared of thoughts-vile of ourselves
   wrestling the mind in mud;
     think of your God, for as His purity
        ...shall I too think in His ways"

So did she say;
  torn out title cover of her bible at hand.
   Sunday school teachers taught my
      infanthood lessons, still in adulthood.

Do you feel nostalgia every time you walk into the room,
as the pillow talks of our make believe? Tender kisses,
biting desires and creases of time stuck in the sheets.

The echo drops of dripping walls, the yearning calls
of passionate eyes—burning embers of your red skin.
Blushing lips; a crushing weight of the burdens I try to shake.
One screams a name, or in turn whispers it's calm in the first hug
of embrace. The shape of bodies, outlined reminiscences on a bed.

Oh-the sense of appeal, peeling away an oozing flux of one's
*** appeal. Branching out into words--your'e barking up the wrong
tree. No harsher than the bark, but a bite to force you to leave.
Duped by the words lost in kisses; I meant to say lead.

To places of touch; a rush of the brushing eyes...you've swept me
by your night gown's sight. My love for you, inside the like of it's
silk fabric. Covering your face under the blankets, but the glow of
your skin—you could never mask it.

Strength lost in the weakness of love. Making two for the best
of one, as when the two flesh become one.

                                                   Now that's making love.

Behind the shades of eyes; does leave something much
more desirable. Wettest eyes behind the blinds of time.
I cherish those little moments—likewise the most we
make out of them.

Shakes me keenly: like my shaking arm after hitting the
funny bone. Careless laughs in good company; my stomach
in knots. Tied between the twisting craze of advertising
love--ours is intimate.(a secret place)

You're close to me; close as the tongue to it's teeth,
speaking the word Love. Your name roles off the tongue
out of my bright smile. (you give me summer in my mouth)

A month like no other, may I attest to your sight,
ghostly; as the presence of you raises my skin hairs.
My goosebumps of knowing you're near, and a extra
beating heart—I'm out of breath.

Let me have a piece of eupnea, by a kiss I'd make
as my last. Lungs of passion; passionately kissing each other.

A bloom of flowers...
whispers of warmth under cold shivers...
tears of an experience...
gleaming light of joy...
a flame of echoed emotions...
reflection of loveliness...
lonely shatters of time...
the escape from a harsh reality...
a dream of eternal...
once forth as I loved you so–-all of the above,
all to remind me of your worth...

                                            At most, I'm lost for words.

In open arms; these galloping seasons—
chasing after summer. A cold heart made of stone.
I'm torn: a ripped page; my appellation out of the
Book of Life.

Deathly wallows swallow my mind, as the
depressed eye looking at the pen as a knife.

An execution of a piece of paper,
bleeding out pain, and yells out in hurt.
Starved are these words—food for thought.
A penny for a thought, worthwhile taking time to
overthink, more often than the count to blink.

Tedious, hideous, a galloping chase—seemingly
alive. But I'm really just beating a dead horse.
Truthfully overthinking--does ****.

Whispers of tree leaves,
shaking fibres of the very skin. A breeze
creeping through all of the wall cracks.
Breath heavy not of stink, but cold breath;
a weighing heart of ice deep in my chest.

Sin in my bones, (from birth) weakness of
the flesh. Time is plenty on my hands.
Intent on the mind, procrastination under breath.

"I'll do it all tomorrow"

I recalled a bird's song as a morning lullaby,
rooster crow echoes of less time left in a dream.
Diminutive time; clocks going full circle several times.

"Fine I'll do it in the afternoon"

The Eve sets on the day,
as to kiss her Adam, as the first sun.
But it's the last light of dusk coming into play,
wasted by the nothing of planning to do something.

"Snap! Where did the day go"

Back to the start of the end, into the new
beginning of procrastination.

"I'll definitely do it tomorrow"


                                                     ­ Yeah right.

Circles—round a trip,
going all around the plains of plain thinking,
A blank mind; empty paper, ****** canvas,
As of the first I'll write: a masterpiece to create.

A shaking pen, a hold of my thoughts and emotions.
Dreams so unreal; feels so prohibited to a natural
thought. So I write them out in words.

Read through it, subtract, dissect,
read through it again; alter, adjust,
As many times, till I'm content with the piece.
But I'm never content; until the next piece,
the next piece, and next pieces after that.

Battling thoughts on whether to share or
archive for a later story. Post for likes, comments,
to please an ego—post for dispraise, inklings,
to better self, and writing capabilities.

For all-inclusive

Heart and soul, the symphony orchestra of your
beauty’s chords. I wrote you a note,—
a love letter with a fountain pen;
Ink lines fine tuned, emotions filled in words.

The sounds of trees blowing in a summer wind,
a palm holding onto birds singing morning secrets in
my ears. The ocean tackling tides, of love in waves.
The blue I see; kissing you with joyful tears.

A minor occurrence; in these major keys,
fiddling to find the right one to the lock.
The song of love isn’t the same for all,
An interlude—lyrics of love, her and I both sing.

Ssshh!

Calm yourself--your anxious feelings,
and hungering eyes. Let the sound of love move
you off your feet. Under stars of ball room lights,
dancing together. I’ll be waiting darling till
you and I meet.

Ghostly shadows, but what ghost
really casts a shadow—cousins?
The ghost and a shadow, still in my room
at the edge of the bed.

A ghost of unhappiness, and a shadow
of these lonely despairs. Both related.

Mother nature taught me how to grow,
Father time forces me to wait for it.
The Mistress of death would love to rush
the process. Brothers in arms, alarming the gun
sounds in my head—my constant ringing headaches.
Sister company, sharing the pain of a common
parent entity

Interesting family picture.

Emotions crease onto another,
wrinkles in the heart—broken
But still in place; afterward I was stood
up by the door of your heart's place—at first
Enthusiastic; red cheeks of a child blushing
over cute callings. A blushing bride as it were;
under the wedding vale with teary eyes.

I loved you still...

Perfectly imperfect, your flaws are what
drove me crazy. For no definition was in them,
But they'd define a picture of your strength.
Every kiss leaving wet yearning lips, shaking
and scarred by our out of breaths.

I loved you plenty...

As with the little I could give; money, fame,
fortunes, & recognition from the public.
Only am I recognised by demoiselles, next to you.
For when we see what we could of had,
we'd seek it more than it gave us first attention.

I loved you joyously...

Beatitude; those warm fuzzies of being next
to you—thinking about you, longing for you,
waiting for you, crying for you, & praying for you.

I loved you darling...as still as the time
I must wait, plenty more than I can express.
Joyously in all my endeavours.

I could never stop myself, falling in love
with you again, again, & again.

I've fallen in love again.

Kissing lips; the best taste to have,
Next to chocolate and coffee,
Close few friends; for Saturday hangouts,
Binge watching series when I'm all alone,
Reading a good book, anxious for the next chapter,
A long awaited Friday to kick back from work,
Bonus points if we're knocking off early that day,
Instagram memes, and poetry related posts,
A few brave selfies to show off a fresh cut,
Avoiding "I like your cut g" reactions. Perfect.

The smell of brand new clothes with the tag on,
Socks and sandals in the comfort at home,
The sun coming out of a blanket of clouds. Shinning.

A good or ***** joke to have you ear from ear smiling,
Loud music in my ears with bass, and good lyrics
Picking through playlists to a sombre mood and worship,
Pretty flowers amongst the random walks to nowhere,
A brand new journal, and ballpoint pen to match,
Especially the ones with good grip, and black ink,
Holiday trips to new places, people, and food,
Afternoon naps, sleeping in days, and up late gaming,
Anime lovers sharing folders of content watched. Great.

Bible devotions leaving questions and encouragement,
Sunday meals, filling me up with good food,
Seeing cute kids; making you yearn to have your own,
Somebody complimenting or saying thank you for your effort,
And having poetry, stories, art and expression to channel every
emotion and thought out into physical. Creativity is beauty!

Twenty seven of my top reasons to appreciate being alive.

You stay where I live—
no I live where I stay, as livelihood is doing in my head.
Girls with pictures—pictures with girls, so few
left in my phone. These are just running thoughts,
as I’m chasing dreams; as a working mind in them.
Skeleton hours; dead in the night, as it’s just another shift.
But it slips in these grinding gears, like winter rains slipping on
the road.

Under the cold whispering of previous night’s wind,
reminded of a cold world out there.
Be it truth to live by—amongst liars to speak such is dare,
and quite frankly rare. But I’m none impressed by trends,
tread your grounds carefully of where you walk.
Don’t slip up on your feet, bruising your knees on the
winter rains slipping on the road.

A side note of my love to rhyme...
by second nature to plan the ending word to second line.
Bringing it back this time to the starting rhyme,
and referring to the second rhyme by the fourth line.
Words slip easily off the tongue, dented like
winter rains slipping on the road.

This poem inspired was inspired by my walk
through shortcuts to work. Black wet tarmac,
holes in every direction. Back and forth, cars roam and go.
My breath visible in this morning cold. A sight in dilated
eyes; towards the sight of the winter rains slipping on the
road.

This winter is cold.

US

Them: the beautiful time; love being a weight upon wait,
what **** given? It's walls have caved,
upon the piece of walls for a peace from wars.
This is our love, beauty; all in time —this is us.

We're in love...

TIME

She: never enough when we're together,
so much of it; counting hours apart from last touch.
Miles can be covered in due time, but the clock
is endless—sigh, running in circles.

If only we had more time...

BEAUTIFUL

He: not in the looks; inner or outwards,
neither words said or held out,
Seldom the blemishes or dimples,
make-up coverings; shades of red, purple, often blue,
The actions you take in response to adversary,
the seconds lost in the eyes of time—no.

You're beautiful for being you...
and the above are just accruing.

I hunger for time—
more of which I don't have,
Thirst for love;
but not all would quench it,
Seek a purpose
that isn't labelled at first sight,
Dream of greatest—
in the confines of being simple,
Sin in the several;
seven times a day- consciously

I've done it all-
but in an all still not complete,
I'm incomplete.

Wisp whisperings, tedious tensions,
all we face at a favour of an unfair life.
Summarised summonings, handful happenings,
to do all that is—not out of a place of strife.

Anxious agony, despairing delusions,
pains I can't always paint out in words.
Powerless poverty, penniless pockets,
let not status of the world; dictate self worth.

Joyful joinings, delightful decisions,
happiness isn't a given—still can't be lived without.
Humorous humans, creative creations,
all with a smile; moments are short. Make them count.

For into the night, the day will always rise—a dawn out
of the longest dusk. Like an Eve to it's Adam; the beauty
of their first fruits—seeds are to grow up touching the sky.
Do not threat dear child; the Heavens remain at the
highest,—above the hells of life.

It's time to RISE!

'Life is but a dream,' I question the value of it;
at the edge of life, the edge of time, the edge of our reality;
at the edge of this cliff, we edge ourselves to a falling death.
But what if the fall to our death is like a dream—falling into
a hole, gaining speed close to it's undersurface? We'd wake
up before we hit the ground.

But would I wake up in a cold sweat; or in tears, of longing to
find what lies in the somber of a deep hole? Maybe my soul?
Haha; it's outline must of been shaped by the mind's many dreams,
my child. For what good was it; in the spirit ties of it being lost in the world?  A world at times that doesn't feel as real:
but just a life of a dream.

So by this edge, clutched by the winds of background; hold your
breath before you and I jump. Time may, or may not slow in the
plunge to the valley's undersurface. Still perhaps, this all could be
a dream, and we'll both wake up before we hit the bottom.

Surely it must be, because I don't know a reality to be as brave
to commit such an act. Why pinch yourself, when you've been
pinched by pillars of salt in life—sourness and bitterness?

Oh my inner child, life is but a dream:
and soon we'll both wake up from it.

Love is a two way street.

I give love; out of a willingness to receive love.
Upon speaking love, I would have heard of it,
Experienced passionately; out of a passion to be loved.

Out of a passion to be loved, experienced passionately.
I would have heard of it, upon speaking love.
Out of a willingness to receive love; I give love.

Love is a two way street.

Wasted sober thoughts, prays the hardest without
picking a religion. Sounds as a Muslim, playing Christian.
But just a name; as their friends were pointing and teasing.
All the good days you claim; aren't the ones for the missing.

Wasted sober thoughts, made myself out of made up
thoughts. Make yourself a hero, just to save your worth.
A cape on too tight; squeezing the air out of my neck,
as my delusional depressions is still the only threat.
Bags under my eyes; not tiredness, but all the luggage of
my greatest regrets.

Wasted sober thoughts, my pain is a word I can't explain,
down under like the lowest writes. I must be sad again.
Swept under my head, deeply thinking into my grave.
And I express them well, when I'm feeling a strike of brave.

When I’ve got my fill of wasted sober thoughts,
intoxication to be expressing my unread words.
Do you read me or not; copy or roger this lot?
It's of no fault of your own, just a poem I've written
out of my lows. I'm intoxicated by words.

A tackle with the wind, a tackle with
these modern day kids. Good grief,
as I used to be; childish cares gone in the wind.

A mud crack on a leaf, to leave a
sound of mud cakes I'd make. Under the sun,
till dusk had set; using it's heat to bake.

A first kiss by a door, both parents a few
rooms away to get caught. Curiosity gained
from movie love scenes; tasting the worth.

A bicycle pedal, cycling carelessly. So freeing
to be allowed to ride up and down streets. But
we were young boys of trouble; disturbing the peace.

A stanza getting longer, words can't fit. And like
my mother buying oversize clothing. Barely fitting
in; whether in crowds or clothes in the surrounding.

A procrastinator, in doing first good. Lazy to decisions
of no self benefits. At a time only wanting a final gain
in rewards; you'd expect from growing a little penniless.

A grown boy now, a man faced in the mirror. A face of time
and the lessons experienced. Truly I've seen how much I've
grown; I've grown so much to shed a tear.

A story of growth as you read.

Purple flower—
lonesome afterimage;
a fighter with a purple eye.

Just for practice, I'll test out my bars
to girls inside of my words. Written on paper,
pencil scribbling sonnets with a close eraser.

To fall in love; only in fiction,
is it fact; that I'd be a love guru to all women?
I doubt the fact; but the idea I'm in love with that.
Overly kind; for the hints of girls going over my head,
I take too long to make a move, and we end being just
friends.

My kindness mistaken for flirtatious manner,
attentive of every detail, the stories, experiences
wrapped in life's scandals. Cracking crude jokes,
and quick wits. Through juicy looking lips.

So I was told; but cocky as it sounds, you're talking
to someone taking years to be yesterday's bold.

The best of words only at their prime out of love,
out watching couples, and still someone awkward
at long hugs. Who loves referring to past scars.

Speaks the best sweet nothings to nobody listening,
Positive eyes towards love; dwindling, in the limiting
facts of love's feelings often being sickening.

A hopeless romantic writing hopeful pieces on love.

To touch base, I've mixed with bass,
treble; or tremble at the highest volume,
audiotapes left in the closet, those love
confessions in secret; titled into a mixtape,
Or was it a mistake to place myself in the
music I tried to write?

The lyrics are just me ranting away,
in the thinking of finding a way.
I feel a little blue today; in a jazz of a saxophone,
ordering snacks on my phone. It feels too easy to
rhyme. To play with my words. CD discs,
I was scratched by love; in the ignorance of bliss.

Sad playlists saved in good question,
earphones stuck in my ears while I'm still asleep.
Good reason for me to seem so restless,
bluetooth speaker; hoping to successfully connect.
Still pairing to an unpaired match I could bet.

But music is always emotion, just in beat,
catchy hooks, melodies, and shuffling your feet.
To get you off your feet, get you to think, and as
my dad would say, "your favourite songs gets your *** lit"

I can't function without my music.

Black valley—
a sheath of dark attar
under the fullest moon. I find so beautiful
in it’s darkening as my spirit’s rind.
Extruded by a forceful wind call,—
hoping to run into that, solely being innocence.
But is it black; liken to a colour that seems so
unclean? Washing bare hands twice; but I can’t wash what I am.

A dark masterpiece,—pretty as many flowers I am,
I am this dark flower. I shine brightest in the dark.

You are...
the authority that spoke all into creation,
the same power in my mouth to speak miracles into life,
a voice to the broken silence like a roaring lion;
the Lion of Judah in our hearts.

You are...
the thoughts to inspire me again, when enemies speak worry,
not like the promises of man, who will fail me in time,
your promises are eternal; for you’re not bound by the
limits of space and time.

You are...
the overseer of me when I don’t see myself,
the light of my heart in the dark backgrounds of daily life,
the softest whisper in the world’s chaotic winds,
the spoils of sufficient needs in my life and others,
the loving Father, Redeemer, and Holy spirit I have in trinity,
that has done so much for me.

Words aren’t enough to express all that you are to me.

Felt suicidal on the wrong side of suicide,
not wanting to die; but so uncomfortable
being alive. Wearing this human flesh,
I've slept with so many with my eyes peering
it's imaginations of all desires under a dress.
Lustful thoughts always left me so **** depressed.

I USED TO BE SUICIDAL

Likewise with liking a girl, never taught
how to truly love. Never focused on the looming
dark backgrounds; as my eyes focused on stars.
I'd shoot them down, with the same gun to **** myself,
wishing it doesn't jam this time. Look closely;
to the burn marks of my tongue, not being just bite scars.

I USED TO BE SUICIDAL

I once put a knife to my chest at ten years old,
"I can take my life at any given," telling myself
casually in bold. Must of been an angel holding that
knife back; before my body went cold.

I USED TO BE SUICIDAL

In my teen years; these crazy headaches and
mixing pain killers for the numbing pleasure,
Thinking if I never woke up, it would ease
the echoing ringing of my head's pressure.
I felt the reasoning of being; being alive, being
strong, being present; getting lesser and lesser.

I USED TO BE SUICIDAL

Wanting to drive at 120km/h off the road,
either crashing into a wall, or doing a couple rolls,
Losing my vision while driving, or losing the car's
controls. Or bashing into one of the streetlight poles.

I USED TO BE SUICIDAL

If maybe the roof fell over my head where I lay,
crossing with an armed thief on an unlucky day,
A drunk driver speeding my way, or a brain
cancer to leave my mind to decay.

I USED TO BE SUICIDAL

I've just changed that statement nowadays to:

I DON'T WANT TO BE SUICIDAL TODAY