What to say about yesterday,
the day that seems to blur with the passage of time.

It's like trying to grasp onto a slippery memory,
fragile like a delicate pat of butter slipping through your fingers.
How I wish I could hold onto it, savor it, and make it last.
It feels as if I'm trying to spread my time like butter on toast,
hoping to cover every moment that I have, that I had.

Memories are like fragments of a puzzle,
slowly piecing together the story of our lives.
And yesterday, it held a significant piece, a piece
that I don't want to let go of. It was a day filled with laughter,
joy, and love, creating a tapestry of beautiful moments that
I want to cherish forever.

The colors of yesterday, like an artist's palette,
painted a vibrant picture in my mind.

The sounds, the smells, and the sensations are
etched in my memory, even if they slip through
my grasp like silky sand.

Yesterday is now a chapter in the book of my life,
a chapter that I hope will never fade away.

The fall of one,
is the rise of another.
As did the previous day fall,
we're hoping in the moment to rise once again like a flower.

Hearing what you say to me between your lips,
Focus of my eyes are by your hips.

Stressing way too much on the few seconds left on the time,
Making the night worth the wait as I surely make you mine.

Politeness I lost by biting way too ******* your empty flesh,
Seeking a sweet treasure hidden underneath your colourful dress.

But it just takes a little while
For that heavenly scent across your neck to make me smile.
Down for the type of loving taking us across the mile.

Losing control out of the grip.
I take a piece of your taste by the every sip.
For you have a flame running wild across my entire body. Now reaching the tip.

Ready for the mount
Don't need this time to count.
Lose track of the time. Being the animal you need, breathing the warm air out my snout.

I love the feeling. I take it to no waste.
Passion for my love for you is never displaced.

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

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

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

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

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

Beauty is and has will to be intriguing
of course for many of us, we do question the idea.
Men who search through the fields of true meaning.

Was love not to be like a rose
a pretty sweetness of nature in a field of many
So many pretty flowers for a hand, I'd like to suppose.
I never like to oppose, looking at the faces I see as a pretty rose.

A woman's true beauty could possibly leave us forgetting how to think
One look can't be enough. We've looked at your beauty more than once or twice
Surely now I may have forgotten how to blink.

We've picked you a few many times in our hearts,
these hearts are strangely picking at you ever more.
But if we do fall in love so easily, pray we're not only guided by a heart
It's so easy to fall, but much easier to make someone else fall apart.

You guard yourself, for really you wouldn't want to be hurt
Some may underestimate you, but you shouldn't count on them to count out your worth.

You're in a great valley of your own,
and like it's roses, you make guard of your heart by the sharpness of your thorns.

Roses in a valley will often be picked by many who seek for beauty,
still as many will come, only the right one will ever love you truly
So never let one ask you for an advance in love if their only return is with cruelty.

Usually I don't speak highly enough
so I highly speak of what always needs to be said.
No love is highly acclaimed like the one of a woman's love.

You've weathered storms of what the world could rein upon you, but you're still standing strong as you grow.
What is your strength makes you for you, we all should see such in those petals that show.

Don't place your heart out just for someone's lonesome stealing
Let the beauty of you strike the eye, then only when he has understood it for all it is, will that be the day your heart is out for his receiving.

It's a bunch of you that the world has placed in a corner
but it's grown over to a valley.
We should learn wisely to care kindly for you
for a man is the head of the house, but a woman makes what is the heart of that family.

So for these roses of the valley,
shall the Lord add on endless worth to your value.
Though you drive us crazy sometimes, we should learn to love you madly.

Would you come as you are, within your soul's dwelling
Muddle of fears, intertwining like roots seeking supply
From hesitant soil – your insecurities bloom like fragile
Petals quietly quivering under the weight of your doubt.

The birds of prey swoop down, feasting on seeds of fear
Growing wild in the shadows, where silence can howl –
Unknowingly scattering, nurturing a garden of unease
Within your heart and mind, their talons gripping tight,
Refusing release

The host: guardian of self, peers warily at their unwelcome
Visitor; an uninvited guest that saunters through corridors
Of your thoughts; no regard for boundaries set by respect,
Leaving behind a trail of dusty footprints, remnants of a
World so careless and indifferent.

Why, oh why, do you tend so diligently to this nest of fear
Within you, allowing it to grow; to flourish, casting shadows
Over the once vibrant garden of your spirit- oh bird feeder?

So many hanging
thoughts,
a weight on
my heart
feels like suicide
with a rope
around it's arteries
as I think heavily
to balance
the weight
I'm not thinking straight.

Trying to make a boy into a man,
trying to love better than a crazy fan.
Trying to figure out all my ideas to make a plan,
just trying to be a man.

Needing a little space apart from my mind to at least breathe,
trying to pick out all the want in my life to know what I need.
Just giving out all of my love for someone better to receive.

Wishing I had a better place to call my own,
not being with all my friends and feeling so alone.
Searching deep inside myself for depth in my soul,

Trying to keep an eye on my goals and on the ball.
Just trying not to fall.

Cause I've hit the ground hard enough that I feel absolutely nothing.
A ****** nose would remind me that we all feel something.
But if I'm somehow heading in the wrong direction, could you please stop me.

Cause I'm lurking through my shadows, trying to find some light,
But Sun is going down and going out of sight.

But I'm still out here in the night desperately trying,
my mouth is shut, so I could be lying.
Cause liveliness is feeling closely to dying.

But I'm still trying.

Your love lit my eyes
a burning forest every time you leave
A bullet in my chest—every time I beat,
I bleed
Reminiscing on a stolen kiss, that which
I never got. I write about love out love,
while in love listening to every break up song

Building myself to fall in love
soon to be a crush tearing me down
Losing myself searching for you
hating myself to have love for you
killing myself to bring up the life in you
I can't stop just falling in love with you

Your smile trapped my eyes
watching a pretty devil telling a lie
I listened intentively, listing all of the best
replies
Stuck on all imperfect moments; that seemed
to be a lot. I write about love out love,
while in love listening to every break up song

Building myself to fall in love
soon to be a crush tearing me down
Losing myself searching for you
hating myself to have love for you
killing myself to bring up the life in you
I can't stop just falling in love with you

Your story told me your worth
still young, belonging all to the world
Storing gladness in a shallow pocket; a past
to hold
Fixed on your picture; cropping your memory
out. I write about love out love,
while in love listening to every break up song

Building myself to fall in love
soon to be a crush tearing me down
Losing myself searching for you
hating myself to have love for you
killing myself to bring up the life in you
I can't stop just falling in love with you

I want to fall out of me always falling in love.

And I can't afford any of the love;
Still without paying much attention
Asking if I'd waste any of my time
Not thinking about you
I must of been dreaming on some sold
Out dreams; dreams I could never afford
But I'm enjoying the feeling
Of buying into your conversation,
Still you should know that, I'll always be at a loss for words

My words are timeless
even though time isn't on my side.
But why should I hold onto her,
even she knows she isn't mine.

Essence of my tongue,
is a fragrance of my words.
Even when I'm tripping,
I can never fall while traffic runs,
and I quickly swerve.

For really I have to stay driven,
taking life sometimes as a race,
Trying to catch a success of waves,
but even the oceans don't show you it's grace.

Something you fail to see.

As I'm getting older,
life has a lot of boredom.
Especially at the outer edges
kept inside the border.
I'm acting really excessive,
but still come out on the other side sober.

Some days I feel like a
thousand people.
A lot of personalities,
no surprise I forget who's even leading.
It's either him or I,
we or others, or any other guy.

Who knows which version of me
even wrote this,
The same one who'd **** me if
I quote this.
A version who'd beat me with steel,
if I ever stole this.
But that's really how it is,
when you're split more than the sea by Moses

Epilogue

Ugh, my guts leaking out of my stomach. The smell of death closely in the air.
I can't believe she shot me down like a deer out for it's flesh.
Feels unfair.

Still do I deserve this, do I deserve a slow death for my own misdeeds.
I feel the hint of betrayal I gave her in the shot of the bullet that's eating through my flesh.
Would you show mercy by my cries and pleas.

The betrayal, the hurt and unjust of this Love, I played her. Glaring at me with evil in her eyes, a smirk of disgust that I can smell through the scent of hate for me in the air.
Feels so unfair.

Death closing in, closer her that I'm falling into her lap.
It's all gone cold, the chills of my final seconds of breathe are all but torture.
Fading away to cold long nap.

I brought this on myself.

Chapter 1: The first eyes of Lust

At first glance of her I lost my feet, could barely stand. Stole my heart with your seductive smile.
Weak by your touch when we first shook hands. When a friend introduced you as his. I took long to take the fact, I was lost for a while.

On that Tuesday's moment I knew without a doubt I'd chose you to be mine though you belong to another.
You belonged to a friend close to I. Such as a brother.

I'd curse these eyes for staring you down from top to bottom, scoping all the places with the most flesh.
What wonders lie underneath that dress.

The first eyes of Lust locked onto you, you've become my next target.
All these wrong thoughts I'd wish they'd die. Thinking how I could break you, your gentle flesh I would scar it.

But right now we'll both sit across each for this lunch. "Just as friends" perhaps. But truthfully both our minds have the thought of each other. We're both bitten by the desire of Lust.
The thought neither crossed our minds, that this Lust could break a man and betray a brother.
Still I want you bad that it's become a must.

Still we'll eat this meal, trying to keep eyes from each. We're both in a crush.
Avoiding the obvious of how the attraction is strong, this crush shall break us but I'll enjoy the rush.

Who brought this on who?

Reality basis of an empty mind filling up an entire space,
Inhaling the oxygen of Holy atmosphere quickly, to be the first one ahead, as if we were in a race.
Counting the time backwards to redo all my past steps I did way before.
I have a thousand dreams and goals in mind, but you'll still hear me ask for a little more.

Life's a jungle,
not all our feelings are tame
Falling widely in love for somebody,
often we can't explain.
Feelings we can't bear,
just be careful not to be caught in the snare.

Cherry-topped emotions – place those kisses on a curve
Back on the road; weaving through the flowing cursive
Nature of your words. You swear you don’t curse as often,
Yet I promise you, I couldn’t have heard enough as I’m
Shutting my ears each time you start to talk so rough –
Darling you talk too much.

Pin the blame on the heart; that mischievous *****,
But even more so on the tongue, that speaks in a rush
Racing to spill those hasty, biting out loud remarks
Yet I promise you, I couldn’t have heard enough as I’m
Shutting my ears each time you start to talk so rough –
Darling you talk too much.

Perhaps I entertain the fact, cos I love you too much.

In the case of searching for the right man— is it really the right
man you're after, or just the right now kind? The good-time
lover. The temporary warmth. The one who shows up late, but
still makes you hope it wasn’t too late. Never mind how long it
takes— you’re just hoping you’ll be the one he takes.

And if you start to care, truly care, will the weight of his past rest
too heavy on your heart? Will it matter what he whispered into
someone else’s ear before whispering into yours? Would you
flinch knowing another ear was the trial run, and you’re just
the version he’s learning to hold better, running into his arms.

If his pride is armed like a gun— quick to shoot you down for
standing too close— if he can’t even see your reflection, like a
man wearing sunglasses indoors, would you still stay? Would
your cheeks burn too bright with blush, to see the red flags
waving in front of you?

I’ve been blinded like that before…by charm. By timing. By love,
that felt like truth but turned out to be dressed in denial.

Pause for a heartbeat; envision the world through the
serene gaze of God — tell what would you see? A sea
of ordinary souls, humbly on their knees, even as the
world tries to drown them in a depth of sin.

How beautiful it would be to witness such a thing…
but you chose to drown in your sins, instead of
embracing all of His love that washes you clean.

Am I low-key;
or is it
being lonely?

All our time is glass,
fragile hands holding onto past
live, hurt, forgive and laugh

Parts of me want to be good,
not equal to me being bad
But I always feel misunderstood,
for being this sort of sad
Never what I planned,
thinking with age I'd be a man
But I'm still stuck in boyhood.

Boys being boys,
boy I wish that was always true
State of employ,
working on myself, hoping this works out
Finding myself without a clue,
not a chaser of clout
Maybe because I prefer to be silent
that all my demons seem loud.

To scared to grow,
even if it was for a pair
Would the good fruits show
going against the Peers,
Pressure on me for it,
trying to act different from the rest of the kids.

End of line!

Manhood calling on the other dial
Ringing in my head,
you should be well invested in the future
Sorry though,
I seem to have lost some interest
Man tells me I'm nothing without culture,
but hate to be known for cliché customs
Be a hot head,
volcanic to opinions erupting
But I don't think I'm good to rupture.

More I've been told,
less big boys in the world crying
To your emotions
put them always on hold.
No, I won't.

End of line!

Here's a call to the conversation,
I'll speak my preferred tone
Say if I'm down,
I shouldn't be afraid to admit I'm alone
Despite the occasion,
it's less eventful of me faking a frown.
Even with a grey cloud,
no reign of power
Determines how I'm feeling now.

A boy still at heart,
with a man deep in my soul
Carrying a spear
of the sharpness of his mind
It points out my often wild side,
As is the Spirit of tame,
coming full circle to be whole.
I take all of what makes me man,
gladly I do claim.
Loud as mountains could hear,
hear me acclaim.

What do you think of me,
when I cry every time I sing,
When I'm so weak,
looking for strength in me?

How do you see me,
when I can't see myself need,
Looking to be,
someone in the world you can see?

And how do you love me,
when I'm only but a piece,
Going on to seek,
the greatest version of me?

I'm a tragedy,
but also glad to be me.

Put out first but I preferred to ride shotgun right at the back.
I chilled there for a moment because I was standing still on some cold blue ice,  trying to dream up where a cold amount of money could build a stack.
That was a good second for me, rewiding my memories till it built up an entire old dream,
Slipped ******* some thin ice, definitely paid the price but I still got this move to go scheme.

Kid sees ghosts in an empty fall of a garden,
Spring came around, but this heart can't be sprung by anyone.

Black trees all over my head, pretty much shady,
a little too crazy. Dodging the ships of relationships so I won't be good in the navy.
In a night garden where I grew black roses.

Being I am not the one,
not so bright today but I'm a lonely son.

Guess my time is done, guessing life was a little too fun.
Did a lot of deeds but they felt like none, so if you got some good deeds can I borrow some.

While in the night garden, that I planted myself,
wouldn't want to be there,
but I had to due to my health of thinking for
myself.

For Black roses,
make me seem so soulless,
And people shouldn't follow me cause I'm not the best Moses.
Blue tulips kinda remind me of sad kisses,
violets are a passion I have to towards my broken pieces.

And ghosts in my garden come out at night,
don't give me fright,
Cause once daylight comes they'll be running out of sight.

Night-time is me, only time really free.
I go into that state with a face of glee.
Daylight covers up my face, masking all my pain,
fire is my veins, and smoke clouds my brain.
But I don't know the difference cause it always feels the same.

Water in my garden only drowns my heart,
swimming in regret.
Sorrow is a rock at it's bottom holding me down, pretty much it's role and part,
And peace of mind to it is a threat.

But what could you expect less from a violent violet.

Cause my night garden is only a place for me, just to keep me sane,
whereabouts shouldn't be known.
For sharing with people would make it harder to maintain, I don't need the strain.
There's a lot of demons inside my brain,
trying to mask my pain.

But I wore out the face, buried inside my garden,
a place with no food for thought, so this mind is starving.
Hungry for love, and my composure,
something real to hold that pulls me closer.

Cause I hate myself for having a boo when it's only one of the ghosts in my garden's making,
cause such a theme is rather concerning.

But that theme was just a dream,
surely I need to wake.
But I fail to cause the heart sees reality as being  fake,
So let me stay awhile in my night garden's little space.

The very words have slit the back of my throat,
a crude experience tasting on the blood of a wounded tongue.
The very taste of evil slipping off of it.

The lines are chaos trails leading to a destruction,
Lurking, slowly preying like the untamed beast of unfiltered words.

Soon it attacks tearing at flesh to reach the heart.

Falling into submission, it holds back by the voice holding it down.

Don't you dare speak another negative word I tell myself,
pulling back the very thing and letting healing take place on the wounded tongue

A disguise to my eyes,
with lots of secrets to them
I tell you sir, I could hide.

Pardon a Sir,
with a prize to his emotions
Surprise,
often more than I bargained for
As are emotions,
never what you picture
Or really something to be shelved in a draw.

I should really take my time
to find my peace
It's hard though when you yourself
are a bunch of pieces
Artistic creation,
sculptured by the pain of my literary work
Words,
used against me to question worth.
What's purpose,
if you really don't know what you're put
On this Earth for?

Questions,
of every living being
What's the purpose of our very being
What you've come from,
and where you've been
Would you still close your eyes,
even if you couldn't see that dream?

I really question the most,
answers seem rarely available
In every one of my hurts
there's potential for growth
And in every one of my relationships
a goal to be relatable.

If you easily related to my words,
your say is welcome
Thankful,
for the love and often hate I didn't deserve
For in a world
filled with hate for love
Love over hate,
I really can't complain.

They are the things
that development my very being.

I placed all my quarters on forever,
hoping for a future filled with endless possibilities.
However, deep down, I couldn't help
but doubt that the future held much change for me.
This uncertainty left me feeling indifferent, as if
I had lost my enthusiasm for what lay ahead.

    So I said, "flip the coin, and maybe I should
                 chase some tail when I'm in over my head"

Prayed for those
preying on me.

Likely in the world,
we all love to step over each other.
But if we're all each other's step,
where's this staircase leading up to?

Tis this song of heart
But it feels hard to sing aloud
I’m caught up in the crowd
Wondering if I’m enough, still sticking around
And by the reminder of my tears on ground
I question myself—if I’m making you proud

Tis a song I want to sing
Worship of the morning, though on broken wing
I feel robbed by the world of stolen kiss
I pray often, but often the hurt keeps me to my knees
And I’m quick to count all my fears
Stuck in this burden of my burning guilt

Tis my broken song I have only
Singing till your strength becomes my portion
Raising my arms, and heart as widely open
Redeeming those faults, and daily sorrow
Knowing only for today, you’re to decide my tomorrow
I am just a flower—waiting on yours, and power

Tis songs I sing in despair
As when life feels unfair, I know in prayer
To meet in hope, and always find you there

Lord I thank you for this song
Broken as it is, it allows the fixing in me.

At a shot of love,
to protect your chest
Wear your sleeve,
guard your heart
Wear on yourself a bulletproof vest.

Ask what I'd do for love,
be a loaded gun and shot my shoots,
Too many rounds
of really just falling in love,
Maybe I haven't gotten enough,
or run out of bullets to shot for love.

Flip me over as a cassette tape,
I'm on the side of A but I'm thinking of a plan B
Could be me just trying to skip through tracks,
of that train of thought you had for me this week
But I'm a bit too weak to say how I really feel in vein;
you had left a few marks under my skin
-that was Monday

I'll give a little input for the sound of your output,
an old kind of love putting a tip into a port
I'm the earphones to the sound of your ecstasy,
a little tune to sync to the lyrics of love in a few words
A key to unlock it all, takes a little time knowing each other;
and playing all of those right chords
-that was Tuesday

Spinning your head over a disc changer in my car,
"who even still has those kind of things"
Those kind of things to drive away as far as you want,
and the best kind of songs to play for your heart
The sounds of love, roaming around in a perfect nowhere,
grabbing your hand to take us right there
that was Wednesday

Let's record the best experiences, to make even better experiences,
pressing into the next day; play it out with the volume up
And I bet the back button broke when we feel like
we're too far to go back- so why should we even stop
that was a short Thursday

But I'm always a bit free to mix things up,
mixtapes sitting on my side table
Some compilations of each other's favourite pieces,
I was too busy to hear a word you said, while I listening
to all of our kisses
okay, that was a freaky Friday

Trying to match a beat with love,
I remember when your eyes caught me in a trap- a snare
And my heart was making a loud noise to a rhythm of a drum,
bells to the ringing desire I had **** on my skin
Trading old skins for new ones;
I was left battered but still hadn't had enough
now that was a shell of a Saturday

And it's by this end, I end up feeling like a week was too short,
but it was a whole week of events made into a day
Sunday, Sunday, it had to be a Sunday to remind me
of how this tune will soon play again

My hands grow tired
  trying to hold onto sleep—
gripping fragments of tension
  while my thoughts drift too deep
to be attentive, to pay attention
  to what the world calls worthy.

I swim in the farthest corners
  of thought—beyond my depths—
yet I never run out of breath.
There’s freedom in this dive,
  in expressing all I feel.
This pen is the extension
  of my soul’s most honest reach.

Above a mantelpiece,
  I search for a worth I could call
my dear—starstruck like a deer
  beneath hunting lights.
And though *******, the trophy
hunter loves the chase
  more than the prize.
That, too, is a kind of art.

By genuine reflection,
  I still call myself an artist—
one still learning the form,
still finding the lines
  between vision and mastery.
The lessons are never done.

What I hold in my hand
  feels like something from a
Divine hand— a gift placed gently
  by a hand not my own.

Art is adamant progress:
unyielding, sacred, slow—
  but still,
  I move.

For none of us were born the same,
Surely for we were all given each a unique name.
Multi coloured in this world, filling the outlines of this one picture.
Each chosen for a purpose for it is written in scripture.

Be yourself and live well in your joyful wealth.

Abandoned, the dreams unspoken,
of a brilliant mind, forsaken in the
depths of despair and solitude.

A tale so grand, built on deceit,
with each step forward met by stumbling blocks
and shadowy whispers of doubt.
Success, like a towering mountain,
stood within reach, yet remained elusive
and incomplete, leaving a taste of bitter
disappointment on the tip of the tongue.

The tongue itself, a rope of words,
intricately woven with grace, possessed the
power to bind souls together in its sweet embrace,
forging connections that could withstand the test of time.
Like a skilled puppeteer, it guided conversations
and shaped relationships, allowing the exchange
of ideas and the expression of deep emotions.

And amidst the silence of unspoken dreams,
the whispers of unfulfilled potential, the tongue
held the key to unlocking hidden truths and
unspoken desires, bridging the gap between
the heart's desires and the outside world.

In its magical dance of words, it revealed both
the vulnerability and strength of the human spirit,
weaving a tapestry of stories and experiences that
echoed through the ages.

Her beauty is a painted picture,
a work of art.

Darling you don't need that much to make it such.
A little make-up just to tickle my fancy, but not too much.

A little attitude in that walk you make.
A little sharpness to that tongue to keep me straight.

Be out of this world,  cause you take the space,
Cause you're a painted star that knows it's place.

In this very reality,
everything will always be so real,
From the beginning till the end,
life till death
We're all born to be real.

We've become apart of this world,
to bring a lot new into it,
We're all children of something new,
apart of life, asking so much of us.

Are you ready for life or is it ready for you,
for if you wait too long to do something in life,
That's unfortunate, for life doesn't wait for you.

For whatever you do now,
the future asks you constantly
What's next,
so make it like it was your last,
Make it your best.

Over the course of a lifetime,
one often finds themselves lost in nostalgia,
yearning for a bygone era.
However, being human comes with its flaws,
making us imperfect perfectionists,
enduring the growing pains that come with it.

Somewhere along the way,
we fail to realize that personal growth is not uniform.
Though we all enter this world through the same process,
born from a woman’s sacred embrace,
we are like branches of a tree,
diverging in our paths as we age.

Father Time, wise and unforgiving,
teaches us the brevity of this existence.
For just as scripture says,
“a man leaves his father and his mother,
and cleaves to his wife.”

Yesterday’s memories often become tomorrow’s regrets,
and sometimes pave the way for future repentance.
Yet, amidst the hardships of life,
some souls are fortunate enough
to be saved by unexpected miracles.

Neither the young nor the old should fade away,
for within them lies immense potential.
But even with the brightest ideas,
the world’s judgment may cloud their minds.
Sharing one’s plans with eager ears
does not guarantee attentive listeners.

Do not let those who treat you unfairly
create division within your heart.
Instead, multiply the power of love,
by loving others with both your mind and heart.

We are all stories written in the stars,
collecting memories from the depths of life’s pond.
Before this moment, existence prevailed,
and now it is your turn to create what will be.

Fall upon your knees in prayer,
but do not bow before ungodly men.
Choose not to judge,
and love them even more than they fail to love.
But be cautious not to let love blind you,
keeping a fine line of self-respect.

I am always with you,
like the echoes of past memories.
In the present, I am here to remind you,
to keep pushing forward.
Do not perceive my words as mere poetry,
for they are valuable lessons from a life lived before.

Madness has no specific face to it, just for the moment till it puts on another face.
Ugliness to those who only were to call it out. Such a strange case.
Love feeling endless like the many miles I walk,
Dreams rescue you from my sinking, lost words no reason to talk.

Sadness, depression in the songs of blue playing in my heart's radio,
Could someone hear my tears screaming so loud, broke the speakers of this stereo.
Who hears the cracking heart in a public place,
This heart could be so empty looking for something to fill this space.

And happiness, though you don't stay so long, I'll appreciate that you're here.
Who really counts how many days of your stay, I'm just so glad that you're here.
**** me now if I couldn't live a day without my cup of joy.
When I need it so much for life plays me as a toy.

Sickness, plaguing my existence,
My own body fights you so long as your one resistance.
Messy, my soul can feel so messy.
If I ran naked to feel free from you, someone undress me.

Born, the catalyst of this world
Unknowingly where I'm going, but perhaps I'm heading in the right direction.
Speaking little as I was told.

What guides me is a compass of hope and faith
Pointing towards where the sun rises so my heart never sets
And following through this troublesome journey, seeking to find a place in empty space.

Where all oceans come to their very end, complacent to be there.
But if the end is closest to the very beginning, gladly I would stay there than to be lost nowhere.
And where the sun sets behind mountain tops, shall I rise at the peaks.
While the settling moon whispers sweet kisses and dreams to slow my unease,
Shall I rest at such a place for a couple of weeks.

Where tender whispers of the wind blows to slow down time to a slower pace,
That well the seconds are cut down to their smaller counterparts,
Filling the gaps of the hours wasted so carelessly amongst the empty space.

Then call that living,
Than to a life lesser of taking away of what we don't have,
To be then giving.

For time will always be wasted on those unfamiliar to it's ticks
Those who only understand time when it's read back to them.
Passing around the responsibilities of life, by short passes and kicks.

But then again the idea of only being a catalyst to this world.
Waiting on the other side of life, unwrapping what's hidden in us as revelation to unfold.

Your presence right now;-
does truly matter, even if you feel for a moment,
all that you do doesn't seem to matter. With every
thread of your matter—the space you occupy-
is in its impactful reason, to matter.

The night employs its workers after eight,
creating an atmosphere where individuals seek to escape
their mundane routines and indulge in a thrilling experience.

For one man, this nocturnal venture is
an attempt to buy time, to savor each moment of
a good time and escape the pressures of daily life.
Intentionally avoiding personal connections, he finds solace
in the nameless encounters shared throughout the night—
a world where the unknown pasts of both parties remain shrouded, not wanting to delve into the parts of each other
that we prefer to keep hidden.

Within the night's enchanting embrace, there is a woman
who possesses innocence and curiosity, although her legs
bear the weight of experiences accumulated.
She possesses the wisdom gained through countless encounters,
manifesting in the act of lighting a cigarette after moments of intimacy, letting the smoke billow upward to silently erase the tales of the night.

Her actions portray a yearning for something more,
as she continuously summons another night, effortlessly
dialing for the next thrilling adventure.

Yet, as we reflect upon the distinction between a mere
night out and genuine love, we realize the striking
similarities between the two.
Both demand a significant investment of our time, resources,
and emotions.

We willingly pour ourselves into each pursuit, striving to
stay entertained and maintain appearances.

The other hand is an ongoing exchange, where we pay to experience the thrill of a secret night, concealing our desires behind closed doors and hidden rendezvous.

In this clandestine world, we navigate the blurred boundaries between escapism and genuine connection.
The night becomes an arena for fleeting passions and borrowed moments of exhilaration, a space where we can momentarily indulge our desires and find solace in the darkness.
As we surrender ourselves to the allure of the night, we gradually become entangled in a web of undisclosed experiences, trading our time and resources for the secrets
that unravel after dusk.

I don't, I don't, know how to die,
Baby, baby, don't you cry,
I know that your heart says goodbye.
But I don't know how to die.

You try to wake in your sleep,
with your many nightmares of deep.
You take my heart, you take it's beat,
you take it all, and you repeat.

You try to run inside your feet,
you try to take me of my sweet.
You take it all, it's everything,
you take it all, and you repeat.

But I don't, I don't, know how to die,
Baby, baby, don't you cry,
I know that your heart says goodbye.
But I don't know how to die.


You try to wake inside your deep,
you tried to run inside your sleep.
You take my love, you take what I feel,
you take it all, and you repeat.

But baby girl I have a treat,
it's not my soul, but you can feast.
Just don't take it all, you not repeat.
Don't steal my smile while you walk down the street.

Cause I don't, I don't, know how to die,
Baby, baby, don't you cry,
I know that your heart says goodbye.
But I don't know how to die.

Just leave me be, and pass me by,
find yourself another guy.
Cause I grew tired of your ***** eye.
So baby won't you let me cry,
cause I don't want to try to die.

Cause you take it all, and you repeat,
you take it all, and you repeat.
Cause you took my heart, and it's a stolen beat

Baby it's a stolen beat.

I am the whisper in nights,
of those made silent;

the echo of tears,
of all gone dry;

the champion of wars,
in all battles lost;

the memory of all,
now long forgotten;

an endless belief,
lost a reason to believe;

                           endless am I,
                           endless is hope.

What a pity for the burn of your love — a toothless fire;
we started so strong, but now we struggle to ignite,

I suspected as much — for a boneless smile; just
pretending to be so kind for all those squandering
moments by following their own misguided advice.

The hollowness of your eyes leaves a bitter aftertaste,
on my mind — such a hopeless fire. So helpless to stoke
the flame; yet, one that I can’t deny still resonates with
your name, so we title it simply, as us just being
friends.

Tiny tickles in my nose;
she's a flair of exposed
    Granting a hint of-
          an open Rose.

Sweet fires of red;
burning incense
    A scent that shows.

Darling does know;
how strong perfumed
            Is her worth.

So wonderful-
sticking to her clothes
Scent of beauty a Rose;
        that soon arose.

Want to be there for you,
but my mind rushes to been there.

And who really wants to be where there's pain?

The illusions of the mind
are less pretty in reality.
Illude yourself fully
and you fully become a fool.

Outside these parts
I believe there's a man
His name to world seems foreign
And he is who I am.

Outside these parts
He tried to fit in the mouth of the crowd
But they spat him out for his ego couldn't match theirs of loud.

So as the time grew he grew into himself
Choosing to be alone for people weren't good for his health.

Outside these parts he tried to find a place
But everything in the world tries to take up any space.
So he found it best to run in the life's race
For maybe at the finish line he'd find a type of embrace.

This man shows kindness
But the world takes it as an opportunity
When those do him wrong he sees any hate towards them in only blindness.

He called it maturity.

But many make him feel like his manhood is of small
The things they subconsciously do put obstacles in his way to make him fall.

Outside these parts
The man grows cold and warms his heart in a place of retreat
He comes back to care for the same people who hurt him, though they do such things on repeat.

He falls under no class, he tries to be unique
When people speak out of loud and high ego, he chooses not to speak.

But not to seem better than everyone else
For he hopes to the one to help find  calm from their large prideful statements.
For he's invested in their health.

So much so that he forgets his own.
Till his strength leaves him
To only get it once more when stays out alone.

Outside these parts I know a man, he and I the same
We share a name
Having a wild heart at times but finding ways to make tame.

I am him and he is I
As we both live outside these parts.