Sigh!
It was never a dream
Just a constant nightmare of this living
To have loved so many,
But never feeling any love as it seems
Restlessness;
On all those resting places, you've set your heart upon
With all of the best times slowly fading into memories
All that we've once held onto, is honestly gone
Falling into the shadows of ourselves in their every iniquity
As I've fallen short in this game of falling in love
All which we know
All but somebody else's lessons and experiences
Betting yourself on a spare hand in a game of cards
But we seem to be the we; of all our weariness

Life seems tedious

The songs of ourselves
At times plays as an unanswered prayer
Only to hear the end of ourselves
While watching those we've loved, rise to the sky
All in the time of the world,
A rapture ends off this imperfect day

Could we make love in front of a mirror,
reflecting on what we've done,
And maybe start to see things a little clearer
I know it feels odd, but you're worth it baby,
and I know I'm just searching for love,
as you've been searching for a purpose lately
I want to be a comforting rest to all of your dark thoughts,
asking you to make me your personal pillow
As it's been a long day; so why don't take that
weight off your shoulders,
and I'll take it all, exercising myself to take all of your kilos

I want to blow some options, in the shade of your love,
rustle up all of your feelings blowing likes the leaves,
Then after take a bite of your fruit, and tell you it's not enough,
cut you down, so I can build you up as I see
Unbutton your chest, and dive afterwards into your sea,
and let me swim long strokes as much as I please

I want to wrap you up as a coat to set you a blaze with my touch,
whispers those personal secrets I fear you may not believe,
Make myself your personal seat, till I can barely breathe,
scraping a little fibre off my tongue with a taste of my skin
I want to be your personal heater, keeping you warm at heart,
as I slowly put myself in

I want to be your water gun, to play with a quick trigger,
an itchy trigger finger- to shoot a few shots for a thrill
I want you to call me, "mine,"  to go a little deeper and be
a personal digger

I want the mattress to tell a tale, that these walls can't deny,
from all day chasing tail, I must be in time to chase you
from behind
I want to be the face to your canyon; to rock your world
to do something I've never done before, that makes me feel like I lost all of my morals
To lick every drop of your dripping cream like an ice cream cone,
to have a scent of you leading me all of the way,
A man the world calls a dog, and an animal who has a hint of you
stuck on his nose

I want your model bottle shape, to drink to the bottom,
train my actions into giving you a regular rhythm
Especially when all of my inners are constantly throbbing,
seeing all of the green flags inside of your passionate eyes
As what's any reason to have of me ever stopping

I need you here tonight, by wanting what you're also wanting,
putting all of the work when you choose to join me with your company.

Authoritarian control; manipulated religion
masked in a subtle political ideology
Commonly those who don’t exalt or lift high
thy name- but are so good at tell an enchanting story
To store up their pockets with the
materials of your lonely pocket
10% of a dollar, is more 100% of what you owe
to receive a prophet word

Welcome to the modern world, with all these
mega corporations; oops,
I mistook them for megachurches

“Do not commit ****** sin,” still there’s the
modern churches more interested on body counts
I have horrific flashbacks of feeling claustrophobia
in the arousing curiosity of people being drawn
by an attractive conference poster
Places well establishment, to establish the
dangers of following the words of false prophets