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.

In a dark night
I built myself a black coffin,
to bury all my fears
With a couple dark thoughts
and some black tears.

As is my old self,
buried away underneath the past
Ten feet,
stepping away from the before
Descending,
going to be part of the Earth
Apart from me,
I could never bury away self worth.

Even being stuck in a hole,
won't grantee one to be as open
As a whole,
entirely sure I have pieces left of my soul

In my hollow depression,
fear was a chain of thoughts
Keeping me in captivity,
so to free my mind
A piece of me had to die
Buried alive.

Like my deep thoughts,
I had dig myself into a deep hole.

Buried alive,
the old sinks beneath me
The new me has will to survive.
Buried alive,
digging away pieces
As does our past selves decay.

What's of the dark
goes back to those origins
And of every one of our mistakes,
fears, regrets and all
They go beneath us,
and we will surely rise above them all.

Sinking tears –

 feelings don’t fall,
  they crash
   like glass hearts
    meeting pavement.

Your chest?
 A sunken place.
  No bra strap to hold it up –
   just white linen,
    innocent for a moment,
      until it slips
       in front of eyes
       like mirrors
        reflecting
         every scar
          painted on your skin.


Sandcastle kisses,
 built soft –
   fragile –
     on lips that no longer
       believe in forever.

Yet you speak
 like royalty,
   saying boldly:
    “Love me for what I am –
     not just who you think I’ve been.”

Not a princess.
 Not a saviour.
  A mess.
   A wreck.
    A fallen queen.

Wearing her cracked gold crown
 like a forgotten joke –
   that still makes your heart ache
     when it returns
      in the quiet between memories.



Bones for time –
 you pick at every hour
   like it owes you something.
    Tick.
      Tick.
        Snap!

The clock breaks
   where your mind does.

You may live in the day,
   but you breathe
     in the night.

Freer beneath moonlight,
  where shadows stop asking questions –
   and silence
    finally listens.

i heard of a shadow,
in an empty room
full of intentions,
still they're like a rainy day
still deciding how grey it wants to be.

i picked the corner of a world,
where my square ideas were vaguely
valued; a child who thinks out of the box
i stored a piece of myself in the closet
of my parent's skeletons;
ancestry artifacts burdened by a
generational chain,- the attire of a uniform
conversation; pretending i had a
good day at school today.

"no i didn't cry as much in class,
as i usually do, dearest mother
i did try to make a pass on math on being
calculative, on how i spent my day,
busiest father."

"as i bullied a bully before he could
make me his next victim
cutting him short a few generations
when i kicked him in his *****."

and i only cried, not out of guilt,
but to guilt everyone else, as to make it
seem as if it wasn't entirely my fault.

still even if it had not rain that day,
i'd still ask myself why my tears
felt so grey that day

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.

In the sculpture of time, as the days unfold like petals, the blades of grass sway gently in the passing wind, their whispers a soft melody that tickles the senses. As an observer of this magnificent tapestry, I find comfort in the depths of my being. With each blink of my eyes, I delve into the reflective ponds, exploring the profound recesses of my mind.

This existence, though sometimes shallow, is merely a vessel compared to the limitless nature of my soul. It knows no boundaries, no defined shape or weight. It is an essence that extends far beyond the limitations of this mortal body.

Yet, here I stand, firmly rooted in the present moment. Today, a precious gift intricately wrapped with lessons from the past, awaits me like a beautifully adorned box beneath a Christmas tree. As I carefully place it there, I can't help but hope that my future self will be filled with the same anticipation and excitement to unwrap this precious gift on that joyous day in the future. And regardless of the size of the box, I know that its contents hold immeasurable value and significance.

hearts racing,
the grass is split-
lioness has caught prey.

To the shyest of most,
the ones doing the most.
All think of us quite timid,
still the timid kind, isn't shy
to their thoughts.

A step into our minds,
might lend you a slip.
You'd be so surprised to find
what's inside,
So you've heard,
the quiet ones are the loudest inside.

As the face can be tame,
there's something wild of us.
Granted we have some thoughts
to bring us to shame.
As is often our nature,
these thoughts tend to spring up.

The biting of my tongue,
there's something I'm shy to say.
As is my character,
as is how I'd act in a play.

A creative reflex —
Writing as a way to reflect
While breaking in between myself —
This is me, finding a recess.

And if kidding around is for kids,
Maybe some parts of me haven’t really grown
up yet.

Still, if I’m set —
Placing a quiet bet
On all these dreams I haven’t cashed in yet —
I hold the right
To keep searching for my best.

Because being better than the me from yesterday
Might be all I’ve got left…
And maybe, that’s enough!

I am a journey

Lost in the many words,
thoughts, and scribbles of poems
A poet unheard in prose
of this continuous story
For everyday is but a breath for
a flip of another page

A strike of words of the lightening
in my pen
Echoes of pain after the rain
—my tears are unseen in physical
But just the oceans of myself
written in ink

My skin is just the camouflage I
have to hide my life tragedy
My eyes the thin glass cracked by
all the hardships I've seen
My lips the applauds of the sounds
of self-encouragement I must tell
myself

My smile the minor blessing
of a heavenly joy;
and it's heart burning of unfit desire
as hot as hell

And I burn in this beautiful internal
eternal flame as a flower
But unfortunately they'll only see me
for only smoke

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.

Likely in an entire lifetime I'm yet to have lived
Taking each day on just as fling.
Hoping to fly through my time, but surely how on Broken wings.

A Great Eagle falling down from it's high pride and grace.
Those he preyed Upon now prey on his misfortune,
The hunt he once owned, he now owes back to be the hunted.
All the strength of his wings all gone to waste.

But him and I are possibly that much a like
Surviving on the skills that keep us close to life.
For we'll both will find such fright when the skill blessed upon us doesn't provide food to hold our stomach down for the night.

Our broken wings will ache so greatly, trying desperately to stretch.
While being held down to foreign land that holds down our weight,
And for a short period we'll lose the identity of our nature and be like dogs playing fetch.

But that's not the moment telling our time is surely done yet,
For through the aching of our Broken Wings we'll stretch them out to find our strength again.
Looking to the skies our home, stretching out to her to hold her once more in our wings stretch.

Taking to the great skies for our Broken Wings shall not hold us back any more,
Take to the Sky as she gives back to us our True place.
To fly above it all as the great Bird we are and soar.

On these once Broken Wings we've found the strength they've always had from before.
For we aren't held down to the ground, for Eagles don't find their True place towards the floor.

So to the Eagle and I, shall we find strength on our Broken Wings.

I've seen the Devil in their eyes,
and look to Heaven in the skies.
There's a lot of evil in the world,
but free are the chosen.
When it falls down,
just know we'll be soaring.
Though it feels like you're falling,
as the dark tries to steal what is glowing
For the chosen will be rising in the morning.

In the realm beyond,
We shall discover a clearer reflection of our true selves,
Where every transgression will be laid bare,
Patiently awaiting our admission.

Wish I had the knowledge to think straight inside a crooked world,
Or at least on the piece of wisdom that only exists. I kindly prefer.

Dear Sir, if you have the ears to listen, or are  you just ignoring my voice,
But if screaming to the Heavens would get your attention, I'm leaving you no choice.
Cause I'm left out onto the ground like pieces of black rose, and these feelings seem not to matter, but they'll gladly impose.

I kindly prefer for you to have the time to give me back some of mine,
Pay a little of my due on pieces of a silver dime, and stretch out the path I'm walking on from this thin line.

Dear Sir  you've seemingly took much of your time, leaving a lot of responsibilities behind,
And your not the type to hide, but don't act keen on it if it's only on your pride.
For you may think of me lesser for thinking you're no longer by my side.

And don't call me by my faith, a lot of it has gone to waste.
Instinctively hiding my pain behind a smile on my face.


So kindly good Sir would you take the time to move off your throne,
Lend the hand to aid upon my palm, and being a King with your crown, would you'd do what should be done seemingly calm.


So here's a reminder to you, thinking I should bring my affairs to your alarm.

We pick our friends as we pick our enemies,
we count the time and make our friends our enemies,when I'm listening to the Devil and what his demons are telling me.
Still ****** girls with lustful thoughts,
Still causing murders in my mind and hiding the evidence in empty ports.
But I'm waking up to see no darkness in my empty rooms ,
You want to go live in sadness, then you building yourself, your own black case tombs.

I'm happy now, pray to God I'm not sad tomorrow,
Lord knows his seen me cry when it felt like I stole his love just to borrow.
But I'm a happy man because I've seen a plan,
A plan for me from the Heaven and Earth maker, that superman.
But is my God just a man or just woman in my life,
It's a constantly changing agenda but he still helps me out when this life cuts me like a knife.

How I'm sorry for all the hate in my life,
how I made it my own,
Surely it would catch up to me and make a call if it could, but really it can not afford a phone.
But surely I'm the dumb enough man to figure how to call you back,
Then let you take everything, all that I have, now this all that I lack.
But I'll pray some more to fix that up,
Trying to avoid using pills and potions to fix me up.

So I'll be the man sitting at the back because they say the first shall be last and last shall be the first, so I'll relax at the back,
Till I ride shotgun on Jesus's back and give back to all that I lack.
So someone sing me a song of all this I know,
Sing it loud enough for the Heavens to know, that finally this lost son is coming home.

A touch of time —
feels like marigold marmalade,
like spending slow summers together.
Syrup-dripping tears sting as they stick
to your face, attracting bees; and those
jarring truths of a dream unfulfilled.
It stays sealed in glass—sweetness
postponed, a closed jar never tasted.

You plant a flower of hope in the smallest
of gardens, and prove that even a drop
of nectar can fertilize your faith.
You want to rest in blessings, but
blessings move — so must you.

You pray for daily bread, but life
kneads your hands into making it.
You earn your piece, then spread it
like marigold marmalade on warm bread.

Because life isn’t so sweet; dreams only
taste a little once you finally get a bite.
And Lord, could we be forgiven for
craving the fruit of another’s labour?
As we mistake living for pleasing —
and forget to live for our destined reason.

In every quaking breath, as my heart trembles beneath
the weight of exhaustion evident in my weary eyes,
I found myself standing witness to the relentless winds
of pride, which fiercely clawed into the depths of my gaze.

Anticipating a vision so foreign, so unseen in my own
reflection, my breath, clinging by a thread, delicately
sampled a fleeting moment of time.
I tasted the bitterness of arrogance and promptly spat
it out with profound realization, akin to the futile act
of chewing on ginger in hopes of it turning sweet.

It is no surprise then, that for many individuals, the act
of swallowing one's pride becomes a formidable ordeal,
an immense challenge that tests the very core of their being.

Even where flavour lies;
can't bite into love
Like a sandwich.

Two slices of loaf;
he was told too many lies.
Unfortunately for him;
it was all both sides.

please excuse me,
i have this
bad habit
of falling
in love;
as quickly as the'
traffic you see
-my heart in a rush
living under that
rock; you're my
favourite crush
when you strut you stuff
darling, i can't get enough
please excuse me,
i must have fallen hard, when
i fell in love- with you.

We eagerly await the faint whispers;
an anticipated breath, and mere hint of your desire.
The echoes of passion reverberate in my ears,
as hearts yearn to break free from their confines.
How could I ever forget the way you adorn yourself,
that dress that sends my eyes rolling back in ecstasy,
just at the thought of you behind me.

Beginning with a few words,
I surrender myself to the pleasure of your touch.
My jeans constrict me, a physical reminder
of the intensity building within me.
My eyes, like flickering candles, chase the
sensation of our skin igniting.
The tension in the air becomes palpable, and
my smile retreats into itself as you kneel before me.
A gentle bite, a tantalizing lick, and squeeze
- my pleas become nothing more than fuel for your insatiable
desire to continue.

From the anticipation that hangs heavy in the air,
to tears that well in my eyes, everything becomes drenched
before we even reach the depths of our passion.
I dive in with a breaststroke, my teeth sinking into your chest,
eliciting your favorite reaction.
Our tongues dance, speaking a language only we understand
- the language of love, of desire, of surrender, and French.
As we moisten our lips with a hint of saliva,
my attempts to speak are futile, for words cannot capture
the intensity of our connection.

I refuse to release my grip on you,
for once I have you in my clutches,
nothing can tear me away from your intoxicating presence.
Silence your phone, let the fragrance envelop your neck,
as I search for the sweet nectar that awaits me on the tips of my fingers.

One, two, or perhaps three this time?
The possibilities are endless, as we lose ourselves
in the intoxicating symphony of our desires.

Too many to count on my hands,
too many to have, too many to make
me happy, mad or sad.
Too many girls in the land, I don't
always understand.

But what's the world without them,
what's a nine out of ten; if this world isn't
truly complete without them?
Some as friends, not too many as lovers.
But so many who taught me how to be a
good hugger.

They give me fatigue,
they stick to my side like the flesh to my flesh,
bone to bone of those potentials to my Eve.
The sharpest memory, of when I do them wrong,
who had, to have me falling in love with them,
and a corny love song.

What's the world without them;
driving me crazy. But we also go crazy
for them.

Cross my tears, lose my eyes—
these feelings fall as sadness starts to rise.
I lose my space to lose my mind; I cross
my hopes and pray they survive the night.
My joy feels too old;  these skins
want to die young—tired, stretched thin
from wearing sorrow too long. I feel like
a blade that’s forgotten how to shine.

Rust gathers under my lips;
I’ve spoken too much to the voices
in my head— and all of them,
all of them just want me dead.

Static feelings stuck in my sweater—
crying, even when it’s warm; cos I
don’t own a sweater, just a hoodie—
Something to cover my soul when I
feel like a ghost in daylight.
In my reflection, an invisible hand
gives me an invisible *******.
Even my mirror won’t look me in the eye.

These lips— they started off soft;
now they’re triggers, eager to flip
me off, shoot me down.

I am the despised poet— too hideous
even in my sweet dreams— this is
the  real version of me: unwritten,
unwanted, unmoved.
My soul’s literature is tired—
not of bleeding, but of no one
noticing it still bleeds.

And truth be told... I know the
purest colour of feeling blue.

Of the most, many drink a life away in hopes of finding yourself at the bottom of the cup
To living life in a Man's straight manner but the mind is trailing upside down and left out in the dump.

Taking pills and potions to **** empty pains
Alas, I'm left with messy sheets to sleep with on a bed with all my ***** stains.

Lord Almighty, hoping he don't take me out too soon
Crying in the arms of my own self. Feelings felt like a fictional character of the children's cartoon.

Praying to you that you stay, that my heart wouldn't be lost to I in the troubles of a sometimes lost world.
Gripping on the rusty keys of my heart. Often sicken by a constant sin of my regrets to unfold.
Jesus knows of how my sins he bore on the dead ****** tree could hold so much weight
Often if given the chance I would quickly rely on this world's Grace.

But that could never be enough. For this world's desires couldn't hold you for long in the comfort of loving arms,
But rather play with your mind and   body quickly by the strums and noisey drums.

Still tried to disconnect from people and all care
But the places I would end up to be I would find nothing out there.

Now at such a place I found myself to be,
then for an empty man like I had to search in the deeps of himself to find of what would make him free.
To then humble yourself by your wordy lip
Ending up in a fight wrestling with God. Having a bone pop straight out from the hip.

But I had to come to place where I made a switch up from eating too much of the dirt the world would feed.
To dig deep enough in a once cold heart to plant a new seed.

Now such a seed would grow deeper by the roots of a Tree to my Heart
And no man of this world would dare to think they have the sharpest tool to cut such a Tree apart.

So as I water the tree of my heart to the hopes of it growing tall and well,
Watch of the fruits of my labours for the many stories of my own children to tell.

This to the Tree of my Heart...

Books of old,
have held the knowledge of new.
Testimonies of the days before,
prophecies long before us.
If you've read enough into text,
such things have come now to be true.

Looking with only eyes,
doesn't grantee any sight.
Your heart too knows,
whether it being right or wrong.
In the very darkness of night.

As too the soul,
beholds things coming before,
You spirit remains soundly calm,
as you anxiously wait for what's in store.

Take a moment of breath,
don't be so anxious and weary.
You seem to know little,
when you feel so uncertain.
Breathe now, stop you're fearing.

Be as the still waters,
find your calm.
A tender whisper to soothe a child,
find your stillness,
And sing it in song.

Fire, fire, in the Deepest Colds of my Soul
Here be I a stranger to self from my every Turn and Toll.

Though I may have not very changed, I Feel so Anew.
Despite such my mind feels Broken. Perhaps I've lost the *****.

Though could Earthly Medicine heal such to a Soul
Shattered to these many Former pieces. How I long to be Whole.

Wholeness in Myself of I
Days ago how I fell Straight to my Blindness to neither see across, beneath the Glimse of my Eye.

Yet I count up so many tolls but in a Heart's of hearts, I count Blessings Afresh.
For I know they could not feel like such of Plenty, but they are the Many things to help me Impress.

My soul to be of Impress.

You’ll regret crying in my hands—
  but only because
  you’ll miss the way they held you.
Your tears slip between my fingers
like quiet reminders
  of how far you’ve run
  from the person you used to be.
And still—
I know you remember your feet
each time they find their way
  back to my door.
    Instinct.
      Muscle memory.
        Need.

You come back bare,
and I wear you like a crown—
delicate, dangerous,
  balanced at the top of my thoughts.
You are the ache I prioritize.
  The storm I drink from.
    The wound I keep pressing,
      just to feel something again.

While my friends fold hands
in prayer to Jehovah,
I’m just praying
my depression doesn’t **** me over.
Sometimes I’d rather believe in your skin
  than in heaven—
and sometimes,
  I think your mouth is the closest
  thing I’ll ever get to salvation.
So we drink.
  We touch.
Not because it heals anything—
  but because it delays
       the end.

Darling,
we drink so this love doesn’t burn out.
We drink
  instead of breaking up.
And when your mascara smudges
  under my kiss,
when your sighs leave trails
  from your stained makeup,
I taste the salt of your sadness—
hidden beneath powdered cheeks
  and perfectly drawn lips.
We kiss
  beneath mood lighting
    and half-lies.
We are mature enough to drink,
  and broken enough to
    make up
      in every way
      the word
        dares to mean.

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.

There' a missing scene,
in between a few texts of your last seen
Making my mind go black as that screen,
staring at the dark; a usual shadow as it seems
As you could cry yourself a river over a missed
opportunity of Netflix and chill; but it's just a couple streams

They say,
when you're destined to be a poet
chances likely you won't really know it.

They say,
choose the write words to make your voice known
don't be the antisocial type to avoid being alone

They say,
the future is what you dream it up to be
the only obstacle having  to face is only me.

They say,
The greatest writers suffer from the highest depression
Acting upon this active passive aggression.

They say,
You could speak a million words of positive
but they'll only remember the ones of  negative.

They say,
To be the greatest poet you'll need be  suffering through some hurt
maybe then your stories could leave the world with a mark and some worth.

Poet I am
But not strong in my securities of being such a man.
All my words scream out, hoping to be heard
Saying to be a Christian, sometimes yet failing to follow The Word.

Seeking to be heard and broadly known
When the whole world speaks of you highly
and all your works are widely shown.

Spare a few gratitudes to a lesser known poet
Why not share his wise words so people around at least know it
If I wrote a changing idea in the instant
would you at least show it
If someone plagiarized my quotes
would you at least call it.

Just please do me the simple favour
For this lesser known poet
As you excuse his childish behavior
And let him be a poet as he knows it.

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.

Open up your eyes and let the light pierce through,
casting away the darkness that clouds your vision
like a waterfall's cascade.

Take a deep look into the depths of my eyes; there,
you will witness the aftermath of my chaotic existence.
I have been smoking and screaming with such intensity
that my lungs ache, and the worn floors beneath me have become unwitting ashtrays.

So, I implore you, pry open those sealed caskets that hold your desires and dive headfirst into the realm of indebtedness.
Some seek solace in the grace of old friendships
and ask for new favors, for I, in turn, will search for a woman with captivating eyes and a well-endowed chest,
someone whose presence allows me to maintain focus
on four things at once, even after removing my glasses.

|as slow as a night rider
comes; i've been on the low
driving nowhere nearest to the sun
all heated up over your love
stayed overnight, spending that night
under those stars- i was lost in your eyes

...and i'm hoping time slows for me to
                       stay trapped in this night

But what are the for comings of such a life I live.
Minds of gone, taken away of many and less a few to give.

Yet looking through the small glimse of the looking glass, seeing these old shadows of doubt.
Placed on hold in my heart at such a particular spot. This be where I find my mount.
Still where do Lone Rangers ride to in a sunrise already down
Where do lost dreams find themselves on my face with the makeup upon me like a clown.

Yet do own clowns laugh at their own jokes without the painted smile
Spoken though are the many words you don't say beneath the trial.

Such trials of common error and us many making many more mistakes.
Yet the harder lessons are what sticks most to the heart yet the revelation of such is of what has me in breaks.

Still what is man's commonality if everyone out there has shut eyes on different things,
The endless game of life chess being played is at most the worst of flings.

Still hear to these words before you fall to the prey of deaf.
Try to face all fears but be warned of running quickly to your own death.

Tears running down my face, chasing after the emotions it has to
express – while the flowers rest upon the gravestone of my heart;
I am a heavy sigh, the trembling echoes of regret; still, leave me a
love that I can never forget. As the stench of the night lingers beneath
the phases of the moon, I carry these different faces, depending on
my everchanging mood. And as dreams are summarized under your closed eyes – witnessing those visions come to life, feels like a
blessing in disguise.

There will always be those who care for us, as we’re surrounded by
those who stand around us with different shades of their masks.
Must I be aware of every whisper that tarnishes my name; the ill
spoken against me– for such knowledge breeds a sickness; for even
as pride reveals a man’s vulnerability, the desperate need to validate
oneself, shatters them to hopelessly try and find those fulfilling
pieces.

All the greatness of tomorrow lies in songs yet unwritten; as we
navigate a life of enforced discipline for life is beaten. For mercy
won’t exist unless we give it a reason to live. The love you hope to
receive is also the love you're willing to give. And how long, and
how we'll live, rests on all He permits.

The end of this Untitled Piece.

Hello
Haven't spoken in a while,
Tried to give you most of my time.
Could I get but a smile,
What you call yours was all mine.

Hello
Looking for a glass of water,
At the corners of my heart by the border
My life's a messy dream. All out of order.

Hello.
I know I'm not the best at times
I'm just too stressed sometimes.
This glass was my fellow.

Hello.
You ignored my text on the phone,
I don't want to die alone
Blew out my birthday candles all on my own.
Hello.

Hello.


Hello.

Ooooooo,

I tried to hold you just a little bit closer,
But just in that embrace I was open to your bitter exposure.

To cross the depths,
Of my past steps,
A whole lot of regrets.

It's a mess, looking for a female,
For my lonely house retail.
My heart gives her the detail.

To lose my thoughts in the crazy mess,
Really I'm too **** depressed.

Go through stories of my life, just flip through every single page,
In a small box of my dreams trying to see the bigger range.
But it's a trap, I don't know much cause you used to be my sage.

Caught in the wind, blowing my troubles every single day,
To tear down your walls if you try to get, right up in my way.

Caution to trouble but I ran into danger.
Glad that we met but you act just like a stranger,

It's not your fault, cause I let you in & said  it was okay,
You want somemore but I'm sorry not for you. Not even today.

Cause I took you just for pleasure.
Only in times of leisure.
Last drink I took was by Christmas's December.

You probably think you left my whole life pretty shattered.
But now I realize you never did matter.

Oooooo,

Hello,
You were just a lonely bitter drink,
Used you only to help me think.
You were gone in just a blink
And your after taste just really had a stink.
And I would never look your way or give your eye my wink.

Hello,
Haven't spoken in a while,
I drank your body for a smile,
But left my mind before you said goodbye.
I never asked you why.

Hello

This man, this earthly man, a secret dancer in the night,
Behind these closed doors and shut eyes, is breathless with all his fright.
I'm a thief in the night but a hero keeping a close eye to himself,
Fearing what  his own difference could bring him, I'm still praying to God for a little more wealth.

And I cry so much even though my eyes are as dry as desert sands,
I laughed so much till my eyes could burst out and fall into my two earthly hands.
And I fell in love so much so that it becomes a constant dream,
I asked for so much in my head and hope all these prayers reach up to him.
I try not to hate but I hate that idea,
I try not to lie but I'm lying to myself right now, my greatest fear.
I think of a distant future but want to live in a distant forever past,
I build castles in my head with golden bricks, hoping that they will forever last.

And I watched all the other kids  dancing in circles while we were sitting in squares,
The boys were kissing all the girls while we were fixing up all our lustful stares .
The girls we loved were loving somebody else,
The men were growing backwards and we were grooming ourselves.

And I  lost the time a couple of times like all other men,
I fell prey to my own flesh till it grew bitter and plain.
I ***** that girl in my head without laying a finger, but undressed her in my head,
I told that demon I wouldn't let him in but I opened the back door instead.

So my father would forgive me for a lot of things I've done, the things I've said,
I would need a comforting hand, I would need a heavenly best friend.
Because I'm a earthly man with this flesh so weak and cold,
A mortal man growing to be so very old.

Take me to heaven right now,
Take me far away from here,on my knees I bow.

This prayer from a sinful man amongst all the other sinning men,
Angel take my prayer up to him, in his mighty name I pray, Amen.

Your eyes may speak the cons of consistency – you live a life of make
believe; you might have forgotten how to believe in your dreams –
their steadfastness might have slipped from your grasp. Your burdens
sometimes resound like a tempest, reverberating through the space,
thunderous and relentless, yet always, the sun breaks through; its
radiance brings warmth, and with warmth, love flourishes.

And love remains, unless it softly murmurs: “I’ve finally departed.”
Love knows no age, neither young nor old, but exists in the
timelessness of a breath – for in moments of suffocation, that breath
arrives to clear your chest…

Your anguish could be distilled into a single droplet – a tear, so
numerous that they could overflow a basin – do not allow them to
drown your heart or wash away your soul. Instead, release them to
rise and vanish beneath the sun, into this life that is both exquisite
and untamed.


                       We could be love, if only we learn to love more!

Church bell ears;
I've heard the holy ring of an unwritten hymn in a minor key
Their piercing eyes, are bites of bullets, all pointed guns
as hands;  pointing out my immoral acts; three shots back
at them and one pointing up to discredit a God

A wrinkled heart,
by the irony of a preach; a church's lancet window,
Stained in sin of an unwritten scripture, and a scripted faith
On top of an unholy pedestal, all ready to cast their first stone,
alongside their own boulders of sin

Oh Lord, even if I don't believe in a God,
I'd believe in a better place than here
So my only prayer is being seen by your eyes,
as one saved from the desiring eye of the world


                                                   Amen.

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 am an equal

—yet still
Divided by the
opinions of others

Still it subtracts
nothing
Of my worth
ten times of what
Appearances are,
I am hundred times
bolder than I was before

For underneath the surface
of stars
Beneath my skin I am
the multiples of stories
In constellation of every
journey, every line and dot

I call these many stars
my many beautiful scars

And they are truly who I am!

Shall we not be two skies apart,
but of one being, and flesh.
Given a piece of myself for a trade of your heart.

Let's not waste into time, nor spare a moment,
but be eachs constant.
A loving inspiration for the words of this odd  poet.

Kindly gentle down your heart upon my hand,
being it little, it holds a lot.
Shall we be covered by love like the oceans  surrounding the land.
Kindly hidden amongst the waves, underneath pieces of sand.

Gently I hold onto you, dared not to lose,
for in a game of love, we'd seek to conquer.
Still, if all I had was little, I'd have something much to prove.

Joy with me as a smile like one of a young man in love,
whose stomach turns with butterflies.
Such feelings never being enough.

Journey with me if dared,
ride the longest mile locked in my arms.  
For true happiness is only a distance away, so shall I take you there?

Put a bit of myself in these words.
Crazy thoughts flying in the air with the birds.

Hate this crazy dream I sleep in.
Someone else take the pain for your own keeping.

What is existence,
Heart fights the resistance.
Resistant to the acids plaguing my mind to be stable,
Flipping my mind channels through each cable.

& I'm not too able,
To be the space to fill your entire table,
I'm unable.
Mind's disabled.

I hear whispers in my sleep,
The Demon feasting on my dreams. He's getting into deep.
& in case you wondered why I'm a bit on the edge
I fear of doing wrong, my friends make of me Dead.

Who did the killing, I held the knife.
I slit my throat to take my life.
Bled on the sheets to leave a stain.
A strong acid I wish to take, to **** the pain.
I'm really insane.

My mind's picture is of  washed  up colours.
Eyes see girls as any I could easily pick as pretty enough flowers.
A coward when looking into the mirror.
I could fall to the type looking for help in a glass of beer.

It's a medical,
Drinking it well on the regular.

It's a bitter taste that burns my tongue.
If I go drunk tonight, hope I don't do you any harm.

Follow your formation,
On the acid.
Mind vacation.