I dreamt of a familiar kind of you,
that I became soaked in my own tears
I swam across oceans to reunite with you, to see you again,
but I know so much of you, and how you hate to see men
And I'd hate to admit it was all just a ******* in the end.

I wonder if you held the key to curing my depression,
I had always felt like a burden, being treated as a sickness
As I couldn't really talk to a lot of girls a while before;
so I'm guessing now, its still my only real weakness
But I learnt to catch myself enough times,
before catching anymore of unnecessary feelings
I had become a master at suppressing my feelings,
even if it meant killing a part of myself in the process
- suffering in love crimes with so many villains.

But I'd kiss a mistress as if I were her last hero,
though, I couldn't get enough of shaking
hands with a bit of lust, -it should have been
my very last in all these secret ***** dealings
Still on top of my head, I go beyond my own ceilings,
I would continue to lock my heart away, like a machine
that had been programmed; to securely lock away
it's heart with time's sealings.


                           Is this what it feels like to never love again?

So are we,
People of many faces.
Time growing by the second. Growing old to be.
Travelling the fields of foresight in the many places.

So are we,
Men and women loved of equal.
Like the trees blanketing the Earth, we're that many to be.
Through the small talk moving around to mingle.
Who still wishes to die single?

So are we,
The growing age of time itself.
The flashes of lights in the TV screen of dreams we only wish to see. Sneaking past the troubles of the days. Duck down in stealth.

So are we,
The unspoken words of choice in the corners of echoing rooms.
Don't lose the sound of your heart in the craze.
Don't count the dooms.
For it's the type setting leaving you trapped in a maze.
Silence be your greatest praise.
In awe and wonder of everything so new. Such an amaze.
Stuck in the moment for days.

So are we,
The people of the Earth.
Counting your life's givings to add the worth.
So are we, people.

Surely that often enough you look that fine
Aged on the Beauty and taste of your Love
Lips tasting on you of such fine Red Wine.

A glass for my troubles just to dull them off
Darling be the last of the strong grape essence that will grip my throat.
Darling Red Wine of mine of much worth.

For on this night O' Love of mine
Your heart turns the twirls of my mind till it spins out of my control.

For a piece of your Love has paid off my feelings for you by a dime.
For I'll search so deeply inside my soul,
To finding reason to grow old of your taste.

But you'd never go to my tongue's memory to spoil.

Stirring my heart, stirring through me, piercing my heart right through.
Sticking to me that close that we're probably one.
And surely I'm not taking all this just as childish fun.
For I take to your taste that seriously enough that I never grow tired of you.

My sweet, sweet, Red Wine,
O' How often do I see you so fine.
For my Heart is awed to the knowing of you being Mine.

O' my Red Wine.

Try to runaway to old childish memories. Playing the old block game, building things I wish I had.
The old lego toys with paint barely left in place on their faces. How right now I feel so sad.

Try to escape to when I had such a large imagination to escape to in my head's own world
Talking to the many Friends they could not see. Old paper planes I never learnt to fold.

Bicycles with no brakes but just the sole of my shoe and risks of my flesh
The many dishes I made with all the brown muddy puddles. Gosh it's all a mess.
We played games as we could be your Mommy and Daddy,
Sorry though child we couldn't afford you a Nanny.
So shut up and go to school while we'd be making you little siblings named Manny and Danny

To the days weird girls had me going crazy,
When watching TV was said to make me lazy.
When you had me puzzled, didn't know where to fit
When my stomach felt strangely good the first time we ever kissed.

When the only knot I failed to make was in a tie
When being so shy made me fail to greet someone new when they're saying Hi.

Every close corner being an adventure in my eye
The many cuts and bruises on my skin to tell the stories.  Childish memories always seem to make me cry.

I miss the imaginary friends and different vehicles my bicycle could be,
Thinking of such memories often feels like a fade. Alas the only the reflection I have is the left over bruised skin on my knee.

Alas I'm lost again in my Childish Memories

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

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

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

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

Whole heartily who's loving who and who.
Looking through cracks of a mirror, who's reflective of themselves in you.

Trailing thoughts of those happy times that could be,
Feeling though like your own sadness follows in the packs of we.
Still in such of the emptiness you trying to fill it with something of the worth.
And a million dollars seems like plenty but not as many as your existence to the world of your birth.

Like the thieves opting to steal by night,
Why not be the one who returns the lost joys in days of bright.

Yet be out of sight of the enemies eye who hides in the bushes like a snake,
For you own liveliwood mow the lawn for your sake.

And,

You, find the victory in the great things you do.
You, trail from all the rest. Rather be you .
You, the world may drag you through the dirt can never stain your happiness.
You, who seeks for their victory today could never be driven away by this world's  nappiness.

Be as you are. BE YOU.

"Hey me, how you doing,"

hey future me, I'm feeling clueless,
using less of my time, and feeling a bit useless

"Well, I wish I could tell you that it all gets better,
But even in the successes you and I will have
You're still stuck on hoping you've done enough"

that kind of *****, cos yesterday I was just telling our
past self, we still haven't done enough
and I'm feeling really down, but always trying to keep up
in playing this bluff

"Really life is just a constant game of us playing cards,
My advice to you; put down the cards, and learn to play chess"

sorry, that statement doesn't make any sense,
and above all, it probably went over my head

"Life is about making the right moves,
Lining your goals, and trying to think way ahead"

highly unlikely; let's not pretend

"Hence the word, trying;
You won't get it right all of the time.
But all of the time we have, is another reason to just try,
And every mistake is a lesson we can't ignore or never mind
For the never in our mind, is the reason to all of our insights
being so blind"

can you show me these lessons,

"No, because they wouldn't be the lessons
You'd hold onto, without any of the experience
As the best teacher is experience; still the hardest teacher,
But she'd treasure a good listener, and treat you so precious
My lessons to share, would be to stay brave, stay who you are,
And speak all of your truths of what has hurt/made who you are,
As all of those daily confessions

hey future self,

"Yes"

you really ****, because you always have to be so right,

"And me being right,
Is to show how to be right with our life"

                             sigh!

As I gaze into their eyes,
I am confronted with the undeniable truth
— the devil does exist.

It lurks within the depths of their souls,
casting a shadow over their every action.
Their eyes, once windows to their innermost thoughts
and emotions, now reveal a darkness
that sends shivers down my spine.

It is a chilling reminder that evil walks among us,
disguised in human form.

As the sun is set
apart from the dark
As the moon is set
in it's reflection.
I too, set apart
from the dark and reflected of light.

take recognition of your life
recognise a world pushing us to strife
all hoping to strive, but the t.v. screens
weaponize our eyes

i only see death—vision red
lower case responses, from short ideas
in my head

i sing an empty prayer into hymn
synonymous; to my wits on whim
a shadow of a dream, royally *******
without king

forms of standards and practices
place children into idealistic formation
enclosed imagination; modern day camp
of concentration

none see, a sort of ****—fascism
destruction of a natural world—cataclysm
being destroyed by public opinion—vandalism
only knowing watched picture loves—romanticism
in a world that took a whizz on wisdom

              ...take recognition, to the strings of puppets
                            the world is broken; quite obvious

Find ourselves in these silver tears,
emeralds, and pearls, and precious jewels
like myrrh scented roses, we rose
to the occasion of these unlikely applauds,
celebrating awards, to celebrate our flaws,

'Roses in the dark; seeds buried in the dirt,
one day to rise and kiss the sun'
that first kissed us when we were just so young
and as I was once young as a gun,
a plant shoot, stemming from the soil,

Bare from birth, and leaving as a bare soul in the end
you may find me in this world, but not of it,
in a moment of winter, but it's winter for a moment
as it is destined for me to grow- tis my purpose!

A life in a mirror; so many things you
wish you could control
Of how far that it seems; if life was a mirror
could we have the ability to control all the reflections'
that we see?

I've been living out of the ideas of the world as a homeless
man; and if I killed that person I loved the most,
I'd be killing myself,-

Still I don't live enough for myself, trying to impress
everyone else. All of the impressions of a people
pleaser, tattooed on my tongue, speaking sweetly about
others- to make them fill up on their highs.

Feel up on your heights, to rise up on your
pride in your mind. As life is nothing without outcomes,
that comes with the income; and none of us are born
without come, for the price of love to soon in come.

Still let's live as those who have a lot to live for.

Disclosure and confusion.
Deeper depths of the hidden illusion,
Down beating at myself with cutting and bruising.

Say I be,
The man people think I to be
Would I then live my own life being free.

For the many eyes around fail to see,
Something growing higher to the skies higher than an old great oak tree.

And is it for sure,
Of my giving of little being of more.

From the dreams I hide deep inside my core,
Trying to find opportunities behind every open door.

I guess,
That I keep those type of things that are harder to confess.

Fearing of those seeing my entire life a mess.
But then again I do digress.

A pen:

a brush that paints a shadow of my past,
a guide of stories to lead into a future's path,
a maddening chorus of songs; all that play in parts,
an echo that shouts the silence of my heart,
a remainder of me working on myself to be a work of art

But I'm still somewhat unfulfilled;
knowing that there's more of me to write
To write of people, this world, and life
as I write better than a day before- I'm still unskilled
Always in this constant unending plight
cursed by words playing in my mind and a drive
And as soon as I've died; you'd remember me as being skilled

And how they mock you still,
but to use your name to sight being righteous,
of their famous words to say, "I'm doing God's will"

The scales are peeled off my eyes—I see all
those stars, like the past fallen angels.
Falling stars, falling stars; as they brightly mock God.

To make you seem odd—oddly enough to say
they do it out of love. Out of expression, speaking proudly
public of what Biblical reading calls ungodly transgressions.
It's just another form of weapon—Lucifers walking this earth,
in innocent clothes. Church clothes of expensive taste;
letting themselves be praised by using your name.

The name of your Son; to profit off the prophet.
Marking mockery, in calling you an inspiration,
but conspiring to sound like they're doing your will.
But still, they mock you without ill. To use your name to
sight being righteous, of their famous words to say,
"I'm doing God's will"

Lifestyles of the rich and famous,
Not a million, but it still feels like I made it.

Chasing dreams, man it feels like I'm the greatest,
Been racing time, but I still know how to pace it.

Seen some pretty girls in my review mirror, **** still wish I could chase it,
But to be honest, if I chased them all, I would just lose my breath with all of them sitting on my lap, but still really hate it.

And I'll be honest, she had a body with more waves than the ocean.
And I'll admit, my second brain had me thinking about how I could ride every motion.

And yes I might of tried to sip this potion.
But the real truth is I'm too scared to die so young, so best to avoid it all with caution.

Still, lifestyles of the rich and famous,
Time flies, but **** it, still feels good that I made it.

Try to find balance,
life is challenge.
Living all these crazy days
asking myself how do I manage.
Gone through some damage,
a little bit selfish.
Still try to share myself,
give the whole world a piece of my talent.

To much love,
out to give from my heart.  
It's a drug,
gets me high, till I'm up above.
When I'm down it keeps me up,
but I can't get enough.

Writing in spasms,
or maybe it's just madness.
Emotions that are so violent
suddenly flying high, might need a pilot.
This is for people,
going through issues
Racing so much in life, don't know the distance.
Don't matter how they treat you,
open as much, but they cannot read you.

Are we not equal,
are we not people?
Some are so different,
but there's no point resisting.
We all live this life,
hoping to be proceeding.
And it isn't a fact,
but part of our history.

Caught up in between the lines of iconic beauty,
where every breath feels like a subtle irony that
adds depth and intrigue to the mundane.
In this cliche rhetorical question, posed on the picturesque
pier, I find myself grappling with the overwhelming waves
of peer pressure, walking on a metaphorical platform that
seems to lead to sinking waters, where regrets
lie in wait for us all.

And yet, in this moment, as I dance under the soft,
comforting moonlight, alone in the quiet emptiness
of a room, a sense of tranquility washes over me.
There is a certain solace in knowing that nobody
is watching, allowing me to truly be myself, free from
judgment or expectations.

It's a bit like crying in the shower, a sanctuary that
provides temporary relief, where even the count of
my own tears becomes irrelevant amidst the soothing
water cascading down. And, as if to warm the chilly
corners of my memories, I wear a jacket backwards,
wrapping myself in the nostalgic embrace of my past.
It's a path that once held so much promise, but ultimately
went down in a blaze of old glory, leaving behind a
bittersweet residue.

In this passage of time, seemingly worshiped by all,
I must admit that I sometimes struggle to recall its name.
I have become forgetful in the face of life's demands and
distractions, but one thing I will never forget is the immense
courage it takes to walk this path. To be brave, to face the
uncertainties and challenges, even when forgetting seems
to be second nature.

The memory of that courage remains etched in my heart,
a constant reminder to never falter, to keep pushing forward,
and to embrace the unknown with unwavering determination.

Long days, feeling like a mile.
Don't how to be happy, but I'll try to smile.
Testing out my life, it's a trial,
Haven't been good for a while.
Still finding reason just to smile.

Ringing on my troubles by a dial.
Memos of my pain in a file.
Shopping for happiness right down the isle,
Finding reason just to smile.

Lying to myself, I'm in denial.
Growing out the trend, I'm out of style.
Can't you give me a reason just to smile.

Own heart feeling hostile,
It's really here for awhile.
Just looking for the reasons just to smile.

Here's to the hopeless romantic
the overly dramatic, shooting
pointless shots without any chances
All the young are easily falling in in love
and I'm wondering if I'm too old to die young

But I have the friendliest remarks
not being appreciated in the best regards
In the interests of only getting side hugs
Pestering as pesticides, to repel love bugs
drinking alone in the club—as if I go out enough
As if I have a lot of fun,
as if there's a party favour I'll find in any one

Though I swear the thought of it
almost cures my depressing thoughts
In questioning my worth, each time I make
a mistake during work. And putting every pain
of my day in every word
Worthy of the fact, I love to convince myself
how not to talk to girls

Though here I am; a someone amongst
the guys. Anxious to say hello, but giving
up the best smiles goodbye
I'm like with Wi-Fi; searching the crowds of who
to connect with. I'm single in always missing a
girl's signals

Connectivity—wondering who wants to
party with me. I was depressed all my life,
but only new what to call it at fifteen
The fifth of tins, storing up your emotions till
my later teens

As I haven't dated a lot of girls
girls so pretty, pretty much make me pretty
scared to talk to them. So I just say a rude joke,
and mix it with me sounding witty

And somehow being more open on
paper, then in person, and speech
I'm shy to sound as a preach,
stuck on scrolling screens, and sizing a peach
Interactions turning me red by my cheeks.

As I always accepted these words being
unheard. The author the world ignores
of their words. Is it just me feeling like the
saddest person on earth

Lovers by the pen;
both in the love letters I wrote for you
and feeling so trapped inside my own head.

Our laughter –
is a yard for measuring out the depth of love
where you and I planted a garden of our scars.

But I’ll go chasing after you,
even now, like I never once owned you before
twisting all of my memories, like this doorknob.

I’m open to talk; but even more so to listen;
extra extras – alongside a good time of ecstasy
reading up on the all lessons of love, step by step
here I am, standing next to you, with extra feet.

When I was a little boy, I always dreamt of catching fame as if you were still floating in the air,
So let me get my butterfly net, then try to catch you there.
Then after that travel back in time to an old Christmas dream.
Have a filling meal, enough to pop my stomach, then go pray to Him.

Sleep for a thousand hours to dream ten thousand sweet dreams, that satisfies my sweet tooth.
Travel back in time to relive those dreams. My biggest dream that is, surely the honest truth.
Count the seconds backwards to add more time to myself,
sell a little earthly goods, to gain a little more earthly wealth.
Wait for my words to age like a fancy bottle of imported wine.
How am I doing, like all other people will say, I'm doing pretty fine.

Let me take a moment to think about all that,
Let me count all my words just to feed to myself, but I won't get any fat.
So I'll just keep the leftovers in my right pocket for much later,
and in my left, a fork to eat my words, then tell you if I hate them, if today I'm feeling like being a hater.
But I'll get back to that much later, instead let me think of something else,
Ask myself,  what is my worth, what is the worth of my own fortune and wealth.
Can barely price myself because I can't even count that high.
Should I count in reverse instead, I barely can put up the time to try.

And I'm a very strange man indeed,
would ask any girl I just met if she was mine. Darling would you marry me right now, could we both provide
each other with our every need?
I should really snap out of all these funny tendencies,
but who could help me right now, could you ask for help from all your few enemies?

And to all my enemies, I would lock out of the front gate and throw away the back key,
But from the other side they would see a prisoner trapped in his own world, pretending to himself,  I'm so free.

But this is just a story in my head with no particular end,
just a page turner with pages sticking to each other, so I better put this book to bed.
Sleep another thousand hours to figure out what's real,
Fix the puzzle still puzzling in my head, till I'm finally out of this earthly zeal.

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

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

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

Oppression.
Often life felt oddly close to that,  toying with your mind became it's obsession.
Yet today I'll tell myself that I surely can't have everything,
If I never felt how it feels to have nothing.
Just to take that nothing,
Like the poor common man who takes it to dream of something.

More or less the same,
I'll still find hope and joy in your name.
Though we never met in person  for you died for all my guilts and sins  on that dying wood.
You still gave me the eyes to see all the bad and sense in them some good.

Yet time flies past me,
Though my days seem so down and broken. When I'm blinded, unable to see.
Just call out for me to hear your only true voice as the Shepard calling out to his sheep.
Trusting in your judgement of  this long path I walk,  to sow my seeds and reap.

Take the oppression away,
Till I'm fully empty, to be filled only by you. Each day by day.
Love me as you always have though I've sometimes lost the plot,
For you still keep me safe in your arms and you surely all I need and got.

And by the wayside,
as the river flows,
you throw a stone.

How deep is your love,
and how far shall it spread,
by the ripples of caring words?

Colours of old,
Tried to paint them in a portrait, but do I feel so bold.
Feeling feels so dull and empty,
But I hang on to the joys of all that is this blessing.
So found is peace and love to heal a soul.
And new rebirth for this being to hear a Father's voice out here and there to call.

So give  me piece of sound so I can sell a voice just to communicate,
Piece of my mind inside of my brain while I try so hard to competent.

It's so hard to be yourself,
when you stuck playing the roles of someone else.
But I heard one true voice inside my brain,
So I cut through all the shame and cast out all this pain.


Voice

Love and feelings could you not forsake me,
deep breaths in my soul make me,
hopelessness I have degrades me,
slow days don't phase me.
But only catch me in awe to amaze me.


For alas I'm probably going crazy.

I want a lot of things, but a lot of things don't want me,
pushing  me away, as I'm pulling back.
From the glamour of the fame, and bit of success. I still want a piece of that.

For alas I'm probably at a place of lack.

And it's kind of an empty fact,
a dark hole I see myself falling into the very trap,
Selling me no good, comforting it with a pat to the back.

Pat pat you go,
for a piece of that sell your soul.

And they'll take your light, steal it's glow,
now you've lost your soul.
On wishing to have everything, but you've lost it all.
And the depths of Hell itself call upon you to pay your debts for your soul.


And like these words of such a write,
from top to bottom following a flow,
that's not what I hope to come from to go.
I want a bit of fame, but won't spare my soul.

The phone rings—reluctant
to the answer of destiny
So tis the message from God
  'you've disconnected lately'

All your friends haven fallen
in love—you've fallen out of it
Longing of a touching embrace
              'you seem so touched'

As you have tears, but cannot
cry openly, it tears your apart
Being closed in a ballads verse
          'you dance in your pain'

A thousand steps in the mile
tis a small distance to smile
If you're willing to travel afar
         'life is always a journey'

She's a **** fox, only to eyes
as a foxtrot—love's smooth,
And lovely progressive dance
     'no steps to falling in love'

I'm overjoyed to knowing nothing
as everything is still to be learnt
Mysteries bound to be of a rectify
        'may God fill your creativity'

Beautiful moments...
  are the ones you choose;
        to make...

We're all in this picture of
life... our eyes do frame.
I've lost much today...but there's
others, to make some gains.

   The joys of a life's story;
rests on the flip of a page...

Beautiful moments...
  are the ones you choose;
        to make...

Never forget; where exactly
you came...all those tragedies;
that gave you shape.

Those tears, and their strains;
   the times.. you weren't so
            keen to pray.

Beautiful moments...
  are the ones you choose;
        to make...

Do pray...especially when;
you don't feel like it today.

Why start at being perfect;
when you haven't
mastered...being okay?

Why carry; the entire weight
of the world...just hold onto;
  the words you could say.

In your life's everyday...

Beautiful moments...
  are the ones you choose;
        to make...

Can’t hold onto anyone’s time—
 their life is out of your hands.
But still, we all take these
   steps of being so etched in
somebody’s memory—
     like footprints in the sand.

I keep counting all the time I
  tried to hold onto the past,
 without a watch in my hand.

Watch the moment pass—
 tense, sinister in tenacity.
  A voracious hour—
      feeding off  what I didn’t say,
    what I left behind.
      Art quietly buried in my mind.

And all those things I thought
were gone— they love to
  reappear as a new regret.

Still transparent. Still off-putting.
But put off those mistakes—
  and put on the lessons.
Be beautiful in your time.
Not perfect. Just worth building.

They’ll write it down— the inspiring
  story of how you rose,
 even when time kept slipping
      through your hands.

There are only a few people
I'd trust to:
resite my deepest poem

So few people to flip over my heart
on the worth of a coin

When you have so many idol's
who eventually seem so idle on inspiration

You think you know your heroes
Until they fail
to only then realize—
we're all still human

Sometimes foolish

To be around so little people, to remind
you it's ok in a harsh occasion

But lately that's what I've come to find
realest in all my unreal imagines
And choosing to still be happy in all
the strangest of happenings

Tell me who hasn't met daily tragedy

When you've done so much
but it never feels like enough,
or whether you've given it your best start

As when you've been fooled into
being a successful man early, is mandatory
                   "Better know how to provide
                                        for your family"

I'm still stuck on the idea of providing
for self
And the selfish me, of wanting to enjoy
my wealth by myself

Call me selfish for seeking
my own independence

Till I rest my case,
I guess I'm destined to be restless

I wish I could record all of your secrets,
but I lose track of the time, and there's
this constant laugh track on my mind,
forcing a smile to bloom awkwardly on my countenance.

I wish I could purchase dreams for your journey,
enabling you to traverse the labyrinth of my mind.
As I stand afar, I find myself ensnaring the playful
butterflies that flutter within my emotions.

I wish I could to weave a bow from your desires,
launching them towards the stars.
On this celestial arrow, I'd affix a note – a divine appeal
– for you deserved everything, everything that edges
you closer to perfection.

I wish I could fold up my passion into paper,
and gently tuck these parchment words
into the chambers of your heart.
Despite the paper cuts stinging my hands,
I'd endure, for it's merely a testament of my
unwavering affection towards you.

I wish I could mask out all of my tears,
for I am but an unsightly mourner.
I have wept before mirrors, only to have them
reflect my sorrow – the painful awareness that
I can only yearn for you, never truly possess you.

Let's get high, and drink until the sun gets low
Cos I'm so fond of you, but not so fond of other girls
So no wonder I haven't found any another girl
And let me be cut in my eyes, every time I see you,
Then pretend the tears aren't a mix of blood from what I saw

Thinking about our regrets after we make love; an afterthought
Afterwards, we'll talk about ourselves as we were before
I'm always a little mellow, making a melody out of a poem
But never tempered by your tempo, once I've struck a chord

But lowkey, I'm trying to fit into your memories like a key
I've been a little twisted by other girls, who don't know me
You know, buying love out of a loan,- I'm really just lonely

As the night falls, countless memories fade
away like shooting stars in the sky.
In my dreams, I often find myself wide awake,
surrounded by vibrant neon lights that dance
on the walls as the darkness creeps in.
Silently, I wait, longing to say goodbye to the
night and embrace the illusions of the day.

The energy of people sends shivers down my spine,
their unfamiliar eyes haunting my dreams until
we witness this entire world consumed by fire.
The resounding trumpets echo through my soul,
like the gates of heaven shaking on the brink of collapse.

In the realm of my thoughts, I sit amidst the
smoky trees, inhaling their pollution and igniting
the fires within me, prolonging the anticipation of love.
And with each new melody that reaches my ears,
I am reminded of the days that have slipped away.

We're all so different,
But we need love
All the same.
If the world won't change for the better,
Then we'll give it change.

Condescending,
I know of which isn't ending
A better version of previous self,
superior for owning up to my self wealth
To some it's much frustrating,
I do apologise for being so condescending.

I go against I ,
an ability to be held back by only I,
A type of guy who can't deny,
his much a snack to an apple of the eye.
To those finding it overspending,
I do apologise for being so condescending.

I'm superior,
in a higher rank of self quality
Who I am, is who I am glad to be,
be as I am, an own personal fan
Being proud to call myself the man.
I know for some seems offending,
I do apologise for being so condescending.

I like to like myself,
and loving my own
Surely it's does show,
the light of me which glows.
Like a fire that must burn,
a spark of me, can give you a turn.

Time seems impending,
I have less of it to be pretending
Might feel myself ascending,
but rather I'm not here contending
I just apologise for being so condescending.

Cyle a waste of the wasteful mind blinded in the troubles of the world.
Lesser known to the cause of what the world follows for he follows his heart.

By a compass of wisdom, reliving through the footprints of the wiser men before.
What is spoken in mind has nothing of the words to say, but it is still not limited by such for such is not law.

Cyle a waste of the doubtful heart living upon the negatives it positively takes in.
Why live upon it if it kills us inside.

But for the sake of pride we'll fail to admit of how far we've fallen,
For no man wishes to be seen as lost unless by unseeing eyes.

So speaking to inner man within me to ignore such and following of these lies.

Cycle a soul feeling soulless on the emptiness he's made full within him.
For in time itself he has become of the many wasted hours,
Surely where is the time for him to be living the time of his life.
Why lay on the chopping board of the world's standards, openly ready to be cut down by it's knife.

Cyle the three of such a man for him to be free.
For of such man nothing is lost in the wake for he can still find the desire to dream.

I feel lucid as my lost dreams, loosely as could be,
To act upon my wicked heart's desire as Lucifer could have
been, and if that's just human, Lucifers all are we.
I've been mostly running out of time, with not much seconds
to count. And I don't blame the company of family wanting to
keep me out,—I don't blame you, I'd want to kick myself
out of my house. I should do better, but I don't seem to match
the words of people's expectations; never really lived on the
letter. But I sometimes hope in a next lifetime I could be clever.
        A lesser of a lessor, but I don't have much of a heart to rent
                                ...out, or let anyone I know to reflect my love.
The pro's and con's of loving me, a con of a man who only really shows the truth in his prose. Mixing the art with the inspiration
of rap; all of which are the stories that pass, and a gift towards a
movie picture of the present. I guess that's a wrap.

By the hopes of a double entendre, I hope I could double out
my life facts. Maybe if I could dream a life of living out my
best fictions, I could be justified to give a god thanks.
Masking my pride with the smiles I pull out of my pocket,
while trying to live a life on time I had to borrow.
But even if you swallow the seed of a man, you still
couldn't birth his much-needed humbleness.
                             ..."I guess pride is much harder to swallow."

And like an addiction of the pills I had, the truth of
my own addictions are all so hard to swallow.
Still every piece I write feels like a letter to my younger self,
hoping he doesn't follow in my footsteps,— I wasn't the best
role model. The teen who would roll a model blunt just
to get a flood of ideas to drown out his mind.
But that's a lie; I never really was the one who knew how
to roll up one, and of course the intention was just to get high.
          Still... what's there to expect of a shy guy,
mostly the types who refuse to cry, choosing to give a bitter
reply. Never to say what's really on their mind: the truth
                     is I'm....sigh never mind!

I'm just writing to pass the time, like passing that blunt,
feeling like I can't, but I'd rather take knowing that I can't,
          then having more people call me out as a ****.

Sunny days could still remind me of so much hope,
Smells like the sweet natural honey I tasted from my finger tips. So sweet it was just too hard to cope.
And I can't help it if that love song plays on the old radio I find myself to cry,
It's really a bit of me being silly, I barely could explain the reason of that to myself so don't ask me why.

And the nature of my soul is a changing season,
Often it's a bit shaky when I lose myself to sin and I eat it up for no apparent reason.
If I could tame my thoughts to stay close to a cleaner side, surely I would.
I've proven myself many to be new greatest to something yet to be. How this feels so good.

My cure to what breaks me down though sometimes never really works,
It's something that fulfilled it's purpose, so I can rest my soul. Rest now, a seat for it, as it sits.

Cure,
To what was stinks my life like manure.
Cure,
To what has brought me down so many times though being so few.

CURE FOR IT ALL...

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

Seems the blind
can only see love
blind in love-
blinded to see only one

Mirror wise,
Blind man's reflection locked in the eyes.
So many secrets to keep, but they're mostly lies.

Oops to say I really didn't care of myself to be,
Something of a saint in people's sight. But that's not what you actually see.

Gaze at my mirror reflection, seeing something different.
Shooting every shot I had in life, getting tired of how I missed it.

Oops to say I told you so,
But I'm not the friendly type all season. Thought you should know.

Mirror, mirror on the wall,
I've got troubling thoughts naming me wise by every call.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Your cracks can't hide the facts of shortcomings being so tall.

Mirror effect,
Don't see the doubt in the reverse image. Not scared to regret.
Something I constantly expect.

Beauty:
of an eye has been intriguing,
As like a Rose:
in the artistry of all searching the hidden
meaning.

A gaze: to be glazed for me to blink,
sweetest red to sour cheeks,
Seeing into something so unique.

Yet try to pick out,
passion; it's then lost from heart,
I seem unable to love you without.

Truly I'm not as one willing,
like many love sicken fools:
To fall in love so easily.

Thorns are then to ***** my heart,
I'll shout and call for you,
Yet love won't hear me out.

So enough now said;
I may instead, rest on her {rose's bed.}
For as the sweetest of life;
still follows the saddest of deaths.

living to defend an idiot always
makes them less of an idiot
and for you to become the idiot
in all ways

to love one who only loves
the idea of being in love
is as good as both being unloved

            ....idiots defence, and fools to love

Funny how sleep and I are like
a weak handshake;
As we both can't get a grip
of what should be important to us...