Love and lust;
tell me what's the difference, when both
things give me such a rush,
Swore we wouldn't be any of these things;
but aren't we all so quick to cuss?

I talk too much;
can't bite my tongue on words, unless
if I'm not able to pay for our lunch.
I once took out a girl; hoping for a chance
to cuff. Hoping not to get declined on both
my intentions, and brand new swipe card's bluff.

Being in love sometimes *****;
when you're getting blasted for not checking up.
Meeting up; 'I'm a little busy today, but I swear
by tomorrow we'll do some catching up.'
But we're back to the part of going to cuss;
and I've had so many catches, but I'm the one
still catching up.

Let me butter you up;
have you out to spread with open legs,
As I'm tempting myself so close to lust.
Here comes the rush, as the sweetest kisses brim;
overflowing out of my cup.

Our minds are about to erupt;
we both know what's coming up, and what's up.
Seems so hard to stop; but I'm listening to my
spirit, causing things to interrupt.

Looking cute in my eyes of a pup;
every angle looking so plump, before
my head is rushing to pump. Just to dump
my confidence to peers that I'm not a chump.
That I know how exactly to cuff.

But I told myself to stop...

I've been so close in this game between
love & lust;
The hungrier flesh; skins wanting what
they want. But as for me; I'm not letting them have
their luck.

I'm not letting up.

Cold as the winter's tooth sinking into
my skin. A creep sneaking into my sleep, to
disturb every last dream. I've been choked
up by regrets—the exhausting feeling of Black
coughs; out of an exhaust of a neck. I can't breathe.

panting, panting, panting, panting,

Overexaggerating, and it's so saddening to
tell them you're dying, (inside) but non believe.
In the slow drum beating—it's a slow beating heart,
symphony of a night crying angels; amongst the stars.
Looking to heavens, wondering who we are, imperfect
creatures under a perfect Son. Those waiting patiently
in anxious worry, for Jesus to come.

And into a river filled with tears, is where I'll
wash His feet. Gleaming waters; reflecting not
my image. But the stream reflects my sins. My black eye,—
fighting myself and those shivers of my ***** skins.

May he kiss my forehead for my clemency,
for that value worthy of peace. A golden cup in
my eyes—but so empty. Walking on the staircase
to heaven; a thousand steps away from paradise.

If I'm dying a night, let me die in paradise.
As with my resting eyes; I'll close them one last time,
and walk into that Light. Let me die in paradise.

But what do you know about love,
when you can’t show trust—but you know about lust.
Always thinking about how to fu—nction on your luck.
And that’s going to be a quick bust; infatuations are a rush.
We’d swear we don’t cuss, as you’re drinking coffee for
a buzz—I'm just drinking to keep up.

You say you love me, but I know you also love other girls,
so yeah right, yeah right! Just a shareholder in your life.

You love to talk but we don’t speak, you take life at ease,
but disturb my peace. Feels like you cut my wrists; there’s
no love for me to reach. But I still got a lot to give in a week,
till it leaves me feeling weak.

A heart made of stone, in the echo tone that you can’t
be alone. That’s a quarry of your love, when we quarrel
outside. So it’s hard to swallow pride, when we’re prideful
on both sides. In the shapes of drawing hearts, we’ve always
crossed a line. The outline is this relationship is not fine.
In the tune with a misconduct’s  due. And I wish I could say
I’ve never known, but I always knew. So the wrongs you
do now, are nothing new.

But why the heck did I choose
YOU!?

Sinking into your shadow – a stranger in this place. As the ink
smudged upon your lips; leaves your voice spellbound, those words
caught in a storm within your throat. These torrent of emotions
surging in my heart, resembles rain drumming upon the pavement –
frigid as a stone adrift in the river's relentless current; it ****** my
skin like a thorn.  

Yet, the flicker of our love's promise remains, a distant glimmer,
a beacon in the vast expanse of night.

What am I doing so wrong in my life, to not be moving any
further ahead? How many counts do I need make, to soon realize
I’m running out of breath?

Am I dead?

No, not yet!

But as close to the feeling, with blood running through my eyes,
to only see red. It could be my last time to wake up alive in my bed.
The confusing phrase of, “he/she woke up dead”

Where I rest my head, lays the thoughts of dealing with life’s pressures
and pointless cares. Gaining less of self-respect, and losing some of
my hairs. Especially at an early stage, as I disengage from people who
act my age.

Well the previous one at the least.

Being too young doesn’t have much to give, but just wasted time.
Living without much direction, missing every sign. Pretending you’re
all fine. Flipping girls over for a change of finding a dime. I’m funding
my love, but quickly losing interest. They could be so many out
there, but I’m not a fan of all the kinds of fishes.

Those constant sweet nothings, and long tongued kisses. Not
really much of a fan, when my opinions to them are blowing in
the wind. I’m just blowing in the wind, with the echoes of it
tickling me down in my knees.

Sigh! I take a few minutes to quietly breathe.

Testing my own winds, to see if I still feel. Ha, I’ve watched an
emotion develop into being. Proceeding far ahead of my delusions
that trick my out of the things that are real.

Sigh! I take a few minutes to quietly breathe.

Blowing in the winds, blowing in the winds, blowing in the winds.
A windmill of my life, all of which spins on repeat.

How do I stop myself from blowing in the winds?

Where the sun falls, we'll rise.
Horizons far beyond our lives,
the dawns yet to set.

Treasure the light that guides,
above all, the light within us.

Enlightened, boundless of blessings,
we ride the rays of Sun.
Above all else, a bright people,
the light of days, the bright Sun People.

I should paint you like my shadow,
A lot of the black ink ran out of my pen
You reflect all of my dark smile's intentions,
Not to mention, I could dream of you
Like I had the control to it all, all in an instant;
-Our love was always lucid

So, so many things I could say,
"I love you," "I need you," "I miss you," etc.
But the response is like a lot of messages
-unread, blocked, archived, and forgotten
So it all remains in my head; a better off place said

I needed a place to rest my weary heart.
unfortunately, I had lost my room key,
so I asked you to spare me a space in your heart,
And you handed me a spare key and welcomed me in.

As I told the clock to wait a second for me,
still ticking off my list of red flags, and making
sure that we were compatible.
As we spent time together, making kisses
as wet as the scales of a fish out of the sea,
But I probably should have waited a little longer,
before I start calling you my catch

I couldn't resist the hook in your eyes.
The first time we made love, I was swimming in
the moisture of your body, deep in my feelings.
I took a break from breaking you open,
to sink my teeth in between your thighs.

And I was pleasantly surprised to find that
you were quite the trumpet blower.
As you found your voice blowing on my horn,
and I was left short of breath in the length of it all.
Despite my shorter stature,
I was tall in all the necessary places.

We spent our time smoking and getting high,
making a printer jealous with the loads
of paper we went through.
But I was always afraid of heights, afraid that
my mask would fall off every time I laid by your side.

As I was taught that love sometimes hurts,
but it hurts even more when you were in love
with someone who was hurting just as much as you.
But with you, I found a place to rest my love
and a spare key to your heart.

He was born from the darkness of man's sin-
a monster, a vengeful spirit, and a barter of death
A whisper of an end resides in his breath; and swallows  
up all in it's deathly grey cigarette stench

You'll find him at the edge,
you'll hear him creeping in every corners crack
He will follow by day
as a shadow of every lonely previous night
He'll shine on all your fears before you sleep;
he'll chase you in your dreams—cutting the images of all
your imaginations, a constant knife in your spine

A blade of grass,
he'll valley around your heart and water it's weeds
He'll brittle your skin, belittle you in insecurities,
and beneath his towel of hand- he'll wrap his darkness
around your neck

You'll wish upon a star,
as he's the darkness surrounding
You'll pray to a god, he'll prey on your doubts like
a pouncing predator. His fingers are a remote to
channel your anxiety- a device of your depression
Placing unworthiness in your hand, as a weapon of
your own self harm. He'll cut you from hopes, and
pierce a dagger of misery into your soul

You'll run, run into his arms that he lied a trap for you
An uncomfortable long hug, he'll ***** you until
you feel too ashamed to scream for help
He'll promise you heaven, but give you a whole lot of hell first
he'll give you his curse, he'll curse your very worth,
and leave you bare and unholy—his unworthy curse
He'll disguise his red hand with a bouquet of black roses,
but beware his thorns, beware his thorns

He'll treat you fairly in the abuse he gives
us all. He'll attack you singlehandedly, but
he has a hand in us all

His goal is to raise an army of his slaved cowards,
be weary- fear wears red, in the devil's flowers

I hate social events,
but I'm in the club,
Where they're filling cups,
and throwing up,
Picking up,
and throwing love.
               Who had enough?

While I'm just sitting
talking to nobody,
Feeling like nobody,
drinking until I can't
feel my body,
My eyes are looking
for somebody,
to make me feel like
something,
When I'm feeling nothing.
              Small talk, has me rushing.

Everyone feels like a model,
holding an empty bottle,
With gas in their lungs,
about to hit the throttle,
Kissing their friends,
and fighting couples.
                      I'm about to *****.

I'm feeling extra single,
don't know how to mingle,
with sharp words at the,
Tip of my tongue like a needle.
                  Turned off by a lot of people.

Smiling for my friends,
the one's who misbehave,
Going on a rave,
wanting to go to jail,
Drinking below our age.
                   We're not the same.

Lord forgive us,
for one night stands,
Breaking heart shells
like these peanuts,
We know a lot of those girls,
might actually deceive us,
It won't matter when she's
getting the business.
               Just to feed a *****.

I'm still antisocial for the event,
dragged in by my friends,
When the party began,
God, I wish it would just end,
Spending our weekday bread,
I just want to go home to eat,
and watch some series on my bed.
                      But I'm out here instead.

So if you see the tear
in my red eye,
I'm sad and really tired,
waiting for someone to,
bring up their violence.

Conversation,
are my greatest fear,
I seem to know how,
to only sigh,
Just as,
I've always been wired,
Quietly,
watching you,
Driving the night crazy,
without a licence.

                               And I'm just antisocial.

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

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

                                And all in all, do it all with love.

I’m inside of a scaled walled fortress,
the greatest strains in a mind's limit,
to limit myself inside of castle walls,

Of a writer's block,
refusing to let my passions rest
inside concrete walls,

Paranoia is a loud emptiness,
bouncing back and forth,
corner to corner; in this ball,
playing with my thoughts in these walls,

I can’t think inside of these walls,
can’t see ahead fears inside of these walls,
reluctant to move inside of these walls,
dependent on myself inside of these walls,
I have no choice but to break down these walls.

To some she seems less appealing; by skins of shedding
away snakes. Liars in the world with venomous words,
But there's a city on fire,—in the burning eyes of
the bright future I see in her.

Clean streets; at least better than a capital,
chilled vibes, and no rush to the stresses we
all got to face. Faces of a bright smile; but of late
hidden under a surgical mask.

Sky's the limit in skies, but we're limited
by the resources we once had. "Salibonani mama/baba,"
greeting my elders out of respect.
A mix of black, white coloured, indian, and many more;
the dish of flavours going well with good fellowship at church.

Race barriers still exist; but maybe we ignore it
enough that it seems little. The writing is on the wall!

Many tribes, but my tribe is of great people.
Aren't we all, despite of upbringing or class,
status, hierarchy, or density highs or low.

I have love for you all, love for my Bulawayo.

when the sunlight stays in that
bright smile of yours; i hope for it's day not
to end,
like tears in the ocean; your beautiful
crying also gives me your
blue.

you're as beautiful as those two things...

Throwing shots out a window,
it's all really a pain.
But it won't stick or leave a stain.
Still mind my ways,
the many open things on my brain.
I feel fragile as glass,
so please Lord, don't let me break.

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

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

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

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

When your skin is darker than your past, you'll find
yourself instinctively seeking shade, avoiding the scorching
rays of the sun that seem to tarnish its complexion.
Its once radiant appearance now tinged with the remnants
of the flames, forever leaving a mark.
You may feel that all your imperfections persist, yearning
to be acknowledged and embraced, yet often remaining
unnoticed by the oblivious eyes of the world.
You, my dear, have become a surreal spectacle, captivating
the gaze of many with your unique blend of beauty and vulnerability.

In this collective exchange of glances, you discover
a remarkable unity, a deep connection that transcends
mere superficiality. It is as if each shared look weaves
together the threads of our lives, binding us in a profound
state of matrimony, where understanding and acceptance intertwine.

As we stand together, lost in the enigmatic origins of life,
it becomes apparent that your skin holds a story, an
uninterrupted lineage that stretches back through time.
It is a tapestry of ancestral struggles and triumphs, a testament
to resilience and fortitude. And like the night that envelops
the world, your dusky guardian complexion bears witness
to the strength and beauty that lies within.

But let us not be judged solely by what meets the eye.
Peel back this outer layer, delve deeper into who we truly are,
and you will discover hearts that beat with the same
tenderness, dreams that flourish within the obscure depths of
our souls. Don't let the label of "African child,"
confine us to a predetermined destiny; instead, let it be
a celebration of our heritage, a recognition of the richness
and diversity that flows through our veins.

So, my dear, as we navigate our way through this complex
and ever-changing world, let your skin be a canvas,
not only for the painted white of eyes that might cast
judgments, but for the genuine smiles that radiate from within.
Embrace your darkness, your unique hue, and let it stand
as a testament to the vibrant spirit that resides in the
depths of your being.

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

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

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

Ssshh!

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

All of the sounds;
fading slowly into the background,
the sound of love; swish, only a rush nowadays.
Too many breaking up, down on their feelings
of being down on their luck.

Could make you go, "what the f..k"

But I heard they were looking for things
they couldn't find. Vroom, vroom.
Long trips at night; two kids driving down a hill,
about to live their life. Making out with one hand on the
steering wheel. Stirring their will; with tough love bites
leaving a wheal.

Mxwah, mxwah.

"Let's just enjoy the thrill,"
following each other's commandments. They both know the drill;
of hanging their clocks, with some time to ****.

Chirp, chirp.

Birds in the early morning of the season;
deep emotions their love has; but they keep on swimming.

SPLASH!

"Do you think this feeling will last," she had to ask.
In the relax of paradise; with no memories to
the past. Past the times of counting seconds to finally
meet.

Tic Toc,

Waiting by the corner of her house; waiting for him to
pick her off the street. They kiss to greet. Tss.
They give one on each other's cheek.

Sip, sip.

Of that strong black coffee at their favourite café,
they've been there a couple of days; and it's become
their favourite place. He licks his lips, "I need to ****"

Vvvvrrr, vvrr, splat. Splash!
goes the vibrating tap; to give his hands a rinse.

I forgot to mention that baggage of bags under
their eyes. They've been driving all night.
aauggh, he quickly yawns.

Where has the time gone; felt like they've been stuck
listening to the same song.

The envelope message of eloping away from their parents,
they're living so careless. A couple more miles from a
borders freedom. She's breathless; while he's restless.

On the highway, his eyes pull down; and the car pulls
away to the side. CRASH! BOOM!

Nobody is left alive. Just the sound of a risky love, and no
sounds of life.

Now all we have is the sound of silence.


                                                  END­

Love be the nearest, love be the furthest.
I see an ***, doing the donkey work of to be earnest.
The self identifying; of those among truly purposed.
A garden of roses in carousel; rowing around a carnival park,
Ice cream stains, candy moustaches, brands tomorrow's marque.
People giving loose handshakes; lost it's grip to their love. Their once true love,—
Of all the hateful glaring eyes looking down on us. And what they told us, to then give up.

But love in the nearest? Is of things I hold closely.
As in it's furthest; are those coldest nights I feel so lonely.
Like bare toes inside of the snow; their feet are too cold to move.
Which of my souls do I anticipate to be holy or holey; of my old red shoes?
Glaring, teasing, laughing, shaking, commenting, and pointing,
I expect of others looking at them,— judging my worth at these worthless red shoes.

For a love had. I walked the nearest. And too walked the furthest.

Dip my feet-
In a bag full of coffee beans;
To get the feeling of-
The ground in between my toes.

And as she turned her hair, and ran the marathon of
make-up on her face, she glanced at me. "Aren't you going
to say, I look lovely today," she asked me .

"No," I boldly responded.
Tears started to fill her eyes, but I chose my next
words wisely. Forbidding her eyes a reason to cry.

"The phrase you speak of, is just too simple for me to say.
And being simple, you are not. So if you were to ask me how
you look like today; then this is what I have to say...

You look like a desire so unreal to me,
The calmness of love blowing in word's wind,
The strength of beauty rushing over me like the sea,
The spell of which enchanted me to your heart,
The nostalgia of my very first love scar,
The laughter of joy, to my sadness you heal,
The weakness to my step's; by their Achilles heel,
The eternity to all my favourite sweet dreams,
The first kiss of my morning, and the last of my night,
The end tunnel of light, never lost to my sight,
The shadow of pain, you're unashamed to show,
The willpower, and passion, not by actions performed,
The love of a lonely man, so possessive of it alone,
And all of that is not of today, but of everyday.

But if simple words are what you seek, let me put
your heart at peace. For these are the words you at first
wanted me to say. So for you my darling I'll tell you,
you look lovely today."

Material lips; sewing on a seamless smile;
A shrouded piece of wool- for one wearing
The jersey of youth, as time slowly pulls at the thread
While I lock away my shadow of the writhing darkness,
Trailing behind me in the day; as I once tried speaking
To my void, but the emptiness obeyed not a single word

A tap tap at my window- the eyes to a soul, painted wholly
In the colours of divorce; as the separation of dreams
From one’s imagination. All, all was so dark; slandered
By such a terrorizing world- until I opened to let him in;
As a child with a curious thought, soon questioning, and
To study- for my lips to utter:

I cannot live out this life,
Without letting You, O Lord in.

Every once in a while, it becomes clear to me
that I've been walking a mile with a horse by my side.  
A symbolic journey, with my pockets filled with Trojans.
Perhaps prepared to protect myself and take risks in
my love life.

At times, I might have felt confident and ready for excitement
a couple of nights before, attempting to shake things up
and still maintain the stability of my love affairs.
A delicate balance, like walking a tightrope between
passion and commitment.

There is a cause for concern underlying my seemingly
carefree facade; pretending to own my emotions and
express them through words, yet I owe so much to truly
convey how I feel.
It leaves me quietly standing with a muted passion, akin
to a jacaranda tree with its purple blossoms. I am trying to
defy time itself, hoping that my thoughts won't easily be
blown away like your hair caught in the wind.

It's not in my nature to capture every moment with a camera, constantly immortalizing you in photographs. There's an underlying insecurity within me, wondering if any of those snapshots would truly capture the essence of our connection. Yet, deep down, I yearn for everything to work out in the end. Even if we may appear to have vacancy eyes, who's to say that we'll see it all working out until the very end?

Perhaps, when I say "I love you," it feels easier when I say it
as if I'm expressing my feelings to a dear friend.
When I profess to "always protect you," it is reminiscent of
how I would watch over a little sister, ensuring their safety
and well-being.
When I claim "I can't live without you," I compare you to my
bed, a place where I find comfort and solace. In this comparison, I acknowledge that if I were to lose you, there would always be another place for me to rest my heart.

Despite my attempts at navigating love and relationships,
I find myself entangled in my own mess. It's a mess that I continue to explore, experimenting with different connections and learning more about myself through my interactions with others, particularly women.

Saturday,
really where's the vibe?
Prefer to party inside,
in the subtle chaos of my mind.
Maybe I just want to stay dreaming,
it's really a chilled day outside.
As troubles of the weekday still lingers.  

For this day I'll tell you a story.

A nostalgic kid,
Saturday morning waking up to the screen.
Wonder what adventures are playing?
Wasn't a teen,
yet watching four of them as a kid.
Always snapping while watching four turtles.
As were feelings amid,
watching reruns of TMNT.

Flip the channel to younger days,
still much a Rugrat.
Swept under the mat,
wonder as babies did we have reasons to chat?
Wishing I could hide away from family,
hidden away in my secret laboratory.
I wouldn't be vexed,
not a little to live like Dexter.
My advantage is, I don't have a sister.

I found courage as little as I am.
In a world sort of like Eustace Bagge.
I had to become a man,
proud with what was my imperfection.
Where would I be without The X-Men?

Life was always a mystery,
from home to school.
Wish to unmask it all like ****** doo.
Wished to be armoured,
let them call out my name.
A quick watch of Visionaries and Hey Arnold!

Later go save the planet,
all life does matter
Especially those living on it.
A Captain of the show,
earth, wind fire, water and heart.
And my addition would be mind and soul.

The run around of this life,
chasing it only for a prize
A cat chasing a mouse before the mice.
As the world seems to be ******,
tune into the crazy till the afternoon.
Living a flightless life as a Pingu,
I hope it isn't as true.

My list could go on,
but I don't have much of the time.
Neither any of the energon,
how do I then Transform the time?
Is this for me, the Prime?

I must find new adventures,
as like Winnie The Pooh,
An often jumpy tigger,
how so am I rude?
I grew up shy as a piglet,
with a list of all the shows I grew up to.

My life seemed to be a Saturday cartoon.

I cried these dirges brashly,
After these long nights
While my skin cracks;
Irrigating it with my dry tears
By the desperate harmattan;
My cries are a rustling of leaves under a sun
That never fades- washing my face in strict rays
Its attendance is long overstayed;
Resting on my absent mind

I sit outside in the world’s
Quick-witted; criticizing eyes
Weeping proudly without a rush of blinking tears;
This everyday world isn’t my beloved home to own-
A shelter neglecting to cover my nakedness

I sit outside in the world’s
Quick-witted; criticizing eyes
With a tiny cloth left damp, sodden and weary
By the stretched tears flowing down my bare *******
The world quickly suckles on my grief –
Biting, pulling, and scarring them by their buds
calling it all fair by its, “Budding remarks”
With the goalmouth of getting itself full up;
Never nursing the agony.  

                     Oh, how my heart hurts!

Ghost in the shadows, killing thoughts had in the dark,
What luck to have been so close to an edge,
pulled away from the cliff, close to being cut off,
But my scaled skin just broke off the tip. Given a
second chance to live.

Sort of took a chance to breathe, took all that’s in,
And letting out desire; seems my old inner demons
are quick to come together and conspire,
Darling I’m only a liar, I could never count all
of the daily lies in pen, and catchy rhymes.

But just wait for tonight.

Tonight we’re going to be caught up in a lie,
laying sheets of paper on a wooden bed,
Drawing closer to an embrace, with my imprint
on your skin.

Oh where to begin?


Is it sweet lips, cherry bites, and still wild,
scented candles, and perfumed necks,
Smelling of youthful passions, and exuberance,
I’m dying fighting this flesh.

Chestful of voices, holding breaths, holding
embraces, and swimming pools, swimming
breast stroke. I’m smothered by your pillows.

In the centre line to the belly of tickles, all the
sensitive areas for both of us.
Of course the senses are only too much, if my
tenderness of kisses are a bit too fast.

Setting sun, and a sinking moon,
in between an ocean with it’s two peaks,
I had my glimpse under a dress,
address me as a favourite flavour, slowly as you
undress.

The duration of warming up long legs,
pressing down buttons, pressing knees,
Pressing feet, pressing emotions, pressing
concerns, I’m pressed to solve them with a
bust of a gun.

Won’t our tonight be so fun?

I held you like:
a new born child,

Wondering how I could keep
the fires of life in the light of your eyes.

For even if I had to hold
you as my wife,
Life does change drastically a single
heart into marriage' life.

After the church bells,
the clapping applauds,
as tears see you walk down that isle,
I see the pretty flower. Praying
I know how well to take care of a rose.

Yes love does grow,

But only of what you make
it grow into.
Everything grows, the hate, love,
guilt, and fears.
And in the coming years,
you'll start to see what you grew.

Yes love is time,

But how much of it are
you spending it on a pretty lie?
When she asks you, "what's wrong,"
and your pride won't let you cry.
When you shy away the obvious mistakes,
and she still sees you for you,
But you still want to hide.

Yes love is commitment,

But you could commit to something
you didn't sign up for.
Argue with each other on the
first night. *** becomes a rival,
because you try to sound right; quoting
scriptures from the Bible.

Yes love is truth,

But not all we admit,
eases all that hurt.
I thought as much, I would be
safe if I admitted it first.
Asking me if that wedding dress
still fits, and my response made
you question your worth.

Love is just that.
Something we don't fully understand.
We could hold onto past grudges;
more than we hold hands.

But I would love you past that,
for if we never move past the
heaviest of all tears,
We'd never make it to dryer land.

So if you're scared to love,
darling I can only understand.
But we could both brave this
love together. Just firstly take this hand.

We'll hold on together.

If could call myself an early death,
how'd I seize the day if I'm so stressed?
Knowing I'm blessed,
but also slightly depressed.

I'll confess it's hard
to see the best at your worst
While you question your worth.

Faces fail to display feelings,
high tensions over a room of low ceilings.
A wise bright smile,
with the loneliest man inside.
Who am I,
Mr Lonely Happy Wise guy.

Hi...✋

In your eyes, a delicate pink hue danced,
Like a flower's tender blush, I had never seen,
Yet, I dared to kiss you, craving to understand,
To feel the enchantment that your lips could bring.

As time passed, you blossomed beyond that flowerpot,
Rooting yourself deep within the garden of my heart,
I nourished you with words of admiration and praise,
Expressing the immeasurable value you held, my art.

Your memory, a seed, lay dormant in my mind,
Buried in the depths of darkness, patiently awaiting,
Until the moment it would sprout and bloom,
Unveiling the love that within me was awakening.

I wasn't prepared to fall so deeply, so intensely,
A solitary florist, learning to tend to his own soul,
But with you, my love, I discovered a newfound purpose,
A garden of emotions, where our love would forever grow.

His voice,
voyages through the darkness of every
cornered shadow, chasing after the reins
of ultimately being consumed,— annihilated.

As if being pressed to the heart
of an angel; as the tears of stars are
dancing in the drape of faultless dark,
Sweltering bright, — as a flame impaled
his gaze, with the loudest of needles.

Every breath grew harder, and harder,
as if the same needles were jabbing around
in his stomach— they must have been nerves;
the butterflies he had felt, declaring his
hidden affections to a crush.

The same crushing feeling you
have for a crush, that you hope
won’t crush you with their refusal,
But rather crush you with
the crushing idea:
         of falling in love.

Mr Nice Guy,
with a broken smile, shattered dreams, and tired knees.
Battered equals, divided by trades of thought. You think
too much, with idle hands so dangerous when you’re
getting bored.

All the time of the world, is too small to hold.

Or like the past in your hands, a bright future seems
too dim in your head. So while you’re living to impress,
and motivate others lost in the lights of life;
I know you’re constantly hoping to wake up dead.

Aren’t you already there?

You won’t be there alone too long, I’ll be joining you soon.
Let me not wake up dead. I’ll need to switch off my alarm.

Question...

What is self conversation in these minded walls;
What speaks louder,— a present, past or longing future,
Who do you follow to be the leader of tomorrow,
Who are your children to be; of what you make of yourself now,
And how do you treat yourself when the public eyes are off,
With the obvious expected responses of a nice guy?

Oh Mr Nice guy, you're too nice for the world.

Chocolate diet,
your hairs were too sweet, so you chose to dye it.
“Do you like it, “ you had to ask me, which I had to
admit, “I seriously Iove it.“ But I only could mind it.
In a diabetic coma, we were sleeping on sweet dreams
with your hair on my favourite pillow. A willow now;
your hair was now falling off. You tried to dye your age,
but how it looked before wasn’t really much the same.
Still wishing the old you could come back around again.

Coffee diet,
you’ve been grinding all of your life in continuous cycles.
“Can I have a break, “ you exclaimed to me, I couldn’t lie
to you, and pretend slowing down meant you’d have a break.
Baby test your brakes, just to ease yourself into rushing into
those familiar mistakes. There’s no shame I could put all on you.
Even when I’m trying to fix everything, not only for one of us.
But also fixing a fulfilling life for us two. But it’s all for you.

Cannabis diet,
we’re getting high on all of our wildest desires, and dreams.
Afraid of the heights, getting to the top of success as it seems.
Playing both sides of the spectrum of ideas. Can’t we work out
all of our issues as a team? The closest we are, to doing the
same kind of work. Your cooking up some stories, and I’m
cooking up a storm of my words. How soon till the kitchen gets
burnt? Bite marks under skins; getting on each other’s nerves.

Commitment diet,
tying ourselves around trust. But it passes the fine line
of making up, or passing around lust. Why does the love we’re
making, end off with me having to cuss? We’re playing it all a
little too rough. I can’t be explaining to workmates about my face’s
latest cuts. Must of been the feelings that radiated the first time
we met. But it turned into radiation, falling into a toxic combination.
Toxic relationships are only the ones people fall into blindly. But we
could see the disaster before, taking it ever so lightly. And so mildly.

Cuddle diet,
teddy bear kisses, calling me soft for falling so easily in love with
you. I had to borrow someone else’s glue to get myself stuck to you.
Listening too many times, to peers pressuring me to do things I
never really liked. But they were the ones to decide how far I should
jump, to reach up to their hype. Yet your friend’s excitement aren’t
there, when they see a close couple they know publicly fight.

Sigh,
I must be tired, and too full of myself to picture me the fool.
Drooling over love; waters of the flesh are only sweet in the
moment. But try yourself to enjoy the same taste, straight after
***.

Seriously,
why must we go around chasing loves, leaving us out of breath?
Following a length of measuring up to unrealistic values, and
ending up with less of your human strength. Regrets will fill up
your favourite plate. A diet of all of these things, somehow leaves
you bent out of shape. I was too busy chasing cake, but the flavours
of it, wasn’t something I could always taste.

So,
I had loads of inked pains to write this. Not to act as if all the parts
of you I despise or really miss. But if lips are the first taste we have
to a full meal of two lover’s violence, I think I’ll just stay off it’s diet.

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

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

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

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

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

A robbery: it starts of, by overcharging a people of  their everyday basic commodity. Honestly! Are we all not trying to live that way,
But how do we survive in a life of less regards, and an apology?Seems a price tag’s sayings is, “I’m more than your worth”

The entitled: are so many undeserving, as lightning is in a man’s bones; his enlightenment is struck in a nerve of knowing there’s not much he owns. Though he certainly owes.

A dream: of working long overdue hours in their head, the day is gone but one man’s labour never ends. A waking dream; deep breath out for there’s a lot to be taken in. Still in the reality of it only being good at taking.

A bigger than life experience, unfortunately with a small package.
Miss your train of thought; it's best to wait for the next carriage.
Off the rails, is there a better way to living? Seems hard in doing things yourself, but also harder to be Christian.

So understand my only greatest prayer in life is to find wisdom.

Grand occasion
heartbeats shaking,
Will I make it to the end?
Life's journey,
filled with memories of before
(Soon after we'll explore)

Search more of yourself,
till there's nothing less to find
Within the many hearts,
passion of ideas in our minds.
Every moment written in history,
(We'll leave nothing behind)

Celebration of living,
a precious life. Pieces of silver & gold.
Celebration, a grand occasion,
the ashes to dust, till the dust is old.
Celebrate life,
(we don't know how long we're here for)

I went outside, and met a black queen that ruled over all of my
thoughts – hoping she wasn’t a bad dream. But she'd still love me
despite my arrogance; my pivoting thoughts that swing along my
many moods swings. Fair enough; she’d understand me better,
knowing I wasn’t treated fair enough, under the same sun that
makes her skin fair as much.

Still is there a woman of your dreams when you barely feel awake;
the grass is always greener from a distance, but your eyes can never
catch the green of their snakes. And whenever I tell a short girl
a good short joke, she looks at me to keep it brief – but if I said it in
short: a laugh from a girl, is a guy’s idea of knowing he can get a
taste of those lips. But wouldn’t we love to dream in sweet relief,
while I find it less attainable when someone has me losing sleep.

Please give me my peace that comes with my piece: a piece of mind,
a piece of spark to a piece of love. But when I met the queen, I never
thought it would come with love – but she never felt a spark, paying
no mind to me. We were just two strangers in town, walking on two
different paths, who happened to glance at each other, only once!

Ziplock tie,
a piece of skin caught in a jean
fabric stained, sticky sweat
under a cool breeze. A little wind in
between; hanging cause
Shaving necessary for release from
pores

Bumps and scrapes
awkward looking, and ingrown hairs
blades of grass—pasture flesh land
Sprints of watered perfume, and
the only time man has a tender hand
Cleanliness; cleanse of appearance
to look and feel good in the end

             ...do play ball in taking care of your *****

To describe beauty—isn't by sight,
rather insight.
The mind is beautiful,
a *** *****; pleasing of the know how it shows,
of how much experiences it has catalogued.
As the heart—filled with passion flowing,
lips of course express the words of love.
The hands place action to the physical of one's
love to their own, given once by another.

To a resting place, is a forest of ten thousand
trees,
Where sweet nothings echo into their final bite
of one's words bark.
So as the two make love, under the canopy of
two's embrace—
Seems the passionate partaking, wisps the morning energy
for the day, and a reason to leave.

Too passionate beings, two lovers making
love.
Under covenant, as the circling ring,
she is his, as she calls to him.
He greets her always with a wet kiss.

It's bliss; ignorant forgetfulness.
"I forgot what we were even fighting about"

Worthwhile moments printed in memory,
the good, bad and moderate at times,
all that we have now; is all that we can
cherish.

I'm blessed for knowing you all,
the known and strangers. I must have
heard and seen a thousand stories,
I've been blessed to be a part of them all,
even if it was by quick interaction.

Your moment was my moment,
we've made moments together,
a worthwhile experience; we're all
the moments waiting to happen.

Let's enjoy the moment.

The same blood you have, is also a curse to have!
I should be glad, but I'm mad as the one dealing
with the pride of some forefathers dad.

I was taught not to place all of my blame on
how my parents had raised me.
But I can't keep blaming myself; as if they'll praise me.
I often grew up wondering what actual resemblance I
had of my dad.

The last born nobody knew, the other son all the relatives
thought was just some random nephew.
The family picture felt too big for me to be noticed in it's frame.
I felt as a son; but only a son by just the family's name.

Seems I wasn't born the same.

All the first impressions of thinking my mother
was just my aunty. Thinking I was adopted by relatives,
because my real family didn't really want me.


"Maybe I was switched at birth," I thought to myself.
We all could be walking on the same ground,
doesn't mean we're all so down to Earth.

I guess I was buried in it,
for constantly being the one to take up the family's dirt.

The theory of a twin, who died in the womb.
I've felt so incomplete. Missing the other half to make me fit.
Hoping I had died that time as a baby; when I had my first fit.

But to my twin up in Heaven I hope you're keeping that space
for both of us. By the chance my sins get ahead of me,
Could I get into Heaven by the chance of your luck?

To my father on Earth, I grew up wondering if I was ever
the son you wanted, or the one you deserved.
Maybe I secretly got on your nerves, as I felt the
disappointment in those many cuss words.

To my mother in church, I'm not your little boy anymore.
Neither that daughter you treat me as.
My manhood to peers, seemed so poor. And yet I'm the ear
that listens to all of your words, but not the mouth to tell
you my many truths by the galore.

To my brothers by name, we all knew we were never the same.
But as life went in one direction, I was the child who went
the other way. I can remember all of those harsh words
you often said. As if I'm tasting them all from too many past
yesterdays.

To my sister I never had, life could of been easier if you
were the child the family actually had.
That's all I can say, because that's all that I have.

Sighed;

The Black sheep.

Trodden puddles; muddy waters of cattles laiden on the
path of a dry river bed. The surrounding being ever present
of one's land loss. It's love (like many hearts) so bare to the
humid air, under these heated moments. Skins have broken
out, in my rash decisions.

Don't butter me up, to spread the falseness of a left hand.
Though it's right isn't always holding onto doing right.

Shall I tend the field—once after the herd passes? Let no puddle
be open on where you walk.

Sleep in between lips,
only for a kiss,
we both admit and submit,
to ignorance being bliss.

Hands on hips,
holding onto parts I miss,
under Christmas lights,
in New year's eve,
you're my resolution's gift.

A star above my head,
a lonely child's wish,
only a Lord could give,
lying in the courts of love,
a case put to rest by deceit,
when we argue and go to sleep.

To then wake up
and repeat.