Give me a couple years...
I'll be living as a king;
but right now, I'm working it all out
so hard as a slave.

Give me a couple years...
to be the boss of my own;
that once worked for bosses.

Give me a couple years...
to drink to all my successes;
filled with a cup of the tears.

Give me a couple years...
for cheers of praise of my name;
made from the whispers of disbelief.

Give me a couple years...
to enjoy the hatching of all my gold;
from the eggs I didn't count before they hatched.

Give me a couple years...
to have put smiles on my family's face,
from the times it looked at me with worry.

Give me a couple years...
to not boast of what I made;
but appreciate all that I earned.

In a couple years...
I'll be every dream I always had,
living them all wide awake.

                   I only need a couple years...

Once upon a time a kiss,
in a land of feelings, and desire
Lived what we thought was the perfect kiss,

Our very first words, of tasting one other,
and a journey of potential love;
finding our likes and dislikes, we soon came to discover

Cinderella kisses- at a time you and I had a ball,
waking up from such a lucid dream, as kids
And being so innocent and pure as a Snow white,
still skipping stones along a stream of our dreams

Never telling our parents of this young relationship we had,
and of all those secret places you and I had kissed- our neverland
As I was losing my fingers in all of the curls of your hair;
I climbed the towers of kissing up your neck with steady kisses;
to impress myself on my Rapunzel of no other compare

As I imagined you, pricked by my passion;
a sweet endless dream of beauty, with my resting head
on your bare chest; you were always such a Sleeping beauty
Sleeping in all of our cuddles, I was waiting patiently
to wake up another morning with you

Even to this day, I wonder if we could have ended our story
with a happily ever after final kiss
Sigh, it was all a fairytale,
just made to help me reminisce

                  ...the end.

Life is a magnet;

Attracting what we like

Retracting statements;

Only after society's pushback

Hearts sometimes made of iron;

Irony seeing a hard life through soft eyes

As people are meant to be deep oceans;

But a man swims shallow— afraid to cry

Deepened by the weary of provision

Yet not provided a listening ear

She calls, "why won't you come near"

He's a magnet, pushed in a corner by fears

         ...trapped in society's magnetic fields

Sighing memories washing over me in the flow of a deep
blue sea, — my skin glimmers with the love of the sun, but its
affection is too overwhelming; my tears cascade, transforming every
ground beneath my feet, into an ocean the moment I step outside.

Please don’t crash into me as if I were an unguarded entrance –
the outside world hammered at the door of my heart, demanding to
be let in by any open conversation — but it takes more time for me
to open up.

Those open scars, raw and untended, are like emotional
whirlpools, dragging me down into the abyss of pain and sorrow.

the moon is blue over the ocean,
her tears that fills the hole,
now reflecting what it is,
a blue blur,
so sad; but so hard to see.

Now all of emotion-
seem to be off duty
Sick of onward motion;
and things not set in motion
I'm growing cold; and frozen
so void of my apparent motion
                       But stay on duty.

Put myself on promotion;
free of living in Death's duty
Putting my self will in a glove;
then going on grips in self-love
Its handwoven, and interwoven
                        Worthen of a ruby.

With abreast of pride on chest;
all of my heart has know cruelty
But I learnt how to see beauty,
and tying closely to it's devotion
                            With faith in me.



Some of which, stressful days
will move best in slow motion;
Best of times go in a moment,
so I've come to the conclusion,
                      I'm just an Ocean.

Facebook has taken a break –
Now the darker side of me begins to emerge
As I struggle to remember birthdays without a nudge.

I can’t throw shade at an ex on X anymore,
As I’m deprived of the mindless scrolling, that feeds
A sickening eye on open to doubt Instagram feeds.

The relentless ticking of time feels slower
Without TikTok, and now I’m left to view my own
Insecurities without the distraction of YouTube.

A concealed chaos danced in our gazes – our skins quivered,
muscles coiling tight, startled by the electric brush of our hands.
I drew the essence of my longing into your bare form, enveloped
in a veil of creamy sweetness and intoxicating fragrance;
a moment long awaited.

My lips, glistening with the fantasy of your space, a yearn to
explore those four walls that beckon me, to caress, to hold,
to savour the taste of you against my own skin. You are my
deepest desire, my ultimate love, the very pulse of my
existence; let us unite tonight to ignite a new beginning –
a new existence.

A summer experience, all the time while
the kisses were bright—in warm regards.
The careless fall; we'd spring up a conversation
on talking about love. And how you fell for my
charms.

Retracing scars of past loves, (so few actually)
still I've been gunned down by such a handful
of quests. You'd see those marks on my arms.

By far—I'm no perfect romantic. The type to
chance his chances of the first awkward advances.
My wit to say, only comes out of less pressuring
moments. To impress you only when we've known the
shape of each other's humour.

I was a late bloomer. The sort of nerdy kid, throughout
school. Constantly anxious to impress a design on; as
a daily tool. And as usual, too full of myself thinking
I was overly too cool. But really just full fled fool.

So when we met, it was my season of necessary
growth, in the journey of my life of a revelation's show.
Questioning self worth, the ways of the world, and
YouTube videos of how to kiss a girl. And the highest
being what is means to be a man. Soft with the emotions
compared to others, and finding it hard to fit in with their
clan.

Before you met me, I was teased for walking like a
duck. Yet you told me I walk with such confidence,—
but I was a chicken towards standing out, that you could
hear a cluck in my gulps. I'm still the type to start a
conversation with, "what's up"

As being up to no good with other people my age,
but none at the drinking age of the clubs we snuck in.
Still at an early stage, I learnt I wasn't that big on going
out clubbing. But a few drinks at home, good food for at
home and sometimes drinking alone was more my norm.

Before you met me, it was what you'd call my BC days.
Still I went to church from a young age, but the Lord
wasn't the first call to hard situations. Or even ending
my prayers with a, "in Jesus name"

I'm still learning more about myself present day,
and that's okay. Because the learning experience never
ends until we're dead. So there's more to my story by
every new turning page. I might seem strange, but all
in all—I'm glad of the person I became. And the After is
beautifully being discovered today.

             I'm glad I discovered you.

Hitchhiking at night, caught a lift with
the sun. Riding around the many of stars.
The heavens close at hand, hell conspiring;
while the world was burning.

I must of been roaming around
Judgment Day. At the edge of oblivion;
wondering which place I should go.

Limbo it was; uncertain like the ghosts
of their incomplete dues.
Two extremes, of the crowded silence;
and emptiness of all their screams.

                   Was it only a dream?

While my eyes were still open;
but blinded in their tears.
Bare hands that hold onto the heaviest
of all my greatest sins.

Cold and paralysed; I came back to life.
Soon to return back to earth.

                        Oh what a trip!

If I ever bought love,
I'm just going to break it.
  These feelings aren't concrete,
   but definitely belong to the
    pavement.
  
  I could love someone complex,
     but make it look so basic.

Even with my heart racing,
I haven't found one worth
  chasing.
  
My love has no form,
    all my feelings are shapeless.

And I won't go around falling in
love
  with pretty faces.
    So you'll just have to face it!

These thoughts of you,
are like the smallest pebble to the grandest mountain,
everything holds a certain value, contributing to
the intricacies of this existence.

And there must have been
an unpleasant disturbance in my heart; as if a pebble
was thrown in my eye’s still waters- causing many ripples.

Oh, it’s perfectly strange;
not quickly recognizing your own tears
anymore;- some people do cry better in the rain.

I am a poem in motion, in itself-
I strike an empty canvas; drawing out inspiration from
the library of experiences sitting on a majestic shelf,
“what picture shall I craft,” to showcase an unheard story,
an unsung song- “and what lines shall I once again cross”

Poetry has no bounds;- its never short of words,
its expression is wild; tamed by the artist’s pen- my sword
to fight against the marching violence in my mind.
My words- are all a part of me; they separate me from the
entire world, as I watch everything unfold into the paper
where I write down my thoughts.

[the poet-
is an outsider; a broken writer, who gets his fix from
his literature art. It’s an addiction, and a cure to my everything-
yet it’s still nothing. It is here, it is there, it is everywhere; still
it comes from nowhere.

[a poem-
are her words tender, but also so raw. They are the length of her
elegant body, they are short of breath- she is my answer, she is
my many questions, she’s a truth made out of my lies. She is
everything to my nothing

No poem is a mistake; every poem is perfect-
written by imperfect people.

Okay...

Finding my ****** expressions without makeup,
Fixing my heart when girls say, "let's just break up,"
Figuring out my next steps when things start to shake up,
But I really get annoyed by the nice people we meet; saying,
"let's just f**k"

Oh what is this life; and what am I living for?
Giving all the pieces of your life, but it always wants some
more. As I'm senseless to the less sense of my interests to
my less cents. So reckless to my repentance; and a wreck to
all of life's pressures.
Weighing myself down on all it's measures. How to be strong
with yourself, with all of these offered pleasures?
But we all know nothing lasts forever. Still a chance of having
it now, could make things feel a little better.

Okay...

Still the lover; longing for a love to actually love,
Stuck with food for thoughts; but it feels like my wisdom
is still keen to starve,
Searching all of the skies, for all of my answers from the above,
Scheming on all of my luck to success; with the few of my cards,
But the game of life is always so hard.

Okay...

Where am I going, in these night trips to nowhere,
Who knows their final destination, only after their death's despair,
Why is life this constant carnival game, paying a fair to being
so unfair,
When do I show face to face my challenges, if I dare?

And this is all the okay to the okay, the day after today. Two
days into choices of Tuesdays. But no matter the day;
it's always a battle to just seem okay.

And that's okay...

As in this night,—
Under the moon's calm glow,
I found a sweet Jasmine,
Riverbeds of colour resting in flow.
She's mine of great beauty,
Mine of owning my last hoodie.
A jasmine flower of my incapacitated,
Do you understand my love to you so?

Far as it appears. You are here;
You are near,— Of a white day,
Peace being a ballet display.
Constantly dancing in my eye,
Capturing all of sight.
I held on; holding on longer,
As long in your shortest life.

Oh Jasmine, I failed to make out of you a wife.

The sky's cheeks touched by a dream –  
Blushing softly and bashfully, in shades
Of pink.

As our love ascends –
You are my heavens; embraced,
Radiating in soft shades of pink.

This love is the universe reflected in your tears – universal smiles
we’d savour beneath the sheets; you offered a fragment of your
soul, while I surrendered a piece of me. Even in your absence,
you haunt me in my quiet dreams – how do I even try to sleep,
without you lying next to me?

A belief in the silent secrets carried in your breath, lying to me;
an elephant in the room; so hard to forget all the space it takes
thinking about you. My gaze is drawn to you – I am merely a
pencil sketching on your body’s canvas. Filling my mind with
oceans, drowning me in your skin- departing too quickly, I start
to feel so blue.

I loathe to confess just how deeply I worship you. Such a false
goddess; still I find myself resting down these offerings of my
heart, to lift you highly.

I've seen the glass of your eyes,
as the glow brightly of a reflecting despair,
Desires of a searching heart; still unfound
as we've gone a couple rounds
To a cost of pleasure, divided in equal parts;
we are the amount of a harmonic ****** found
Seeking multiplication; hopefully not by mistake,
and parasites at the most, feeding on each other's side
longing to kiss your face, and losing my tongue in that
secret place

To make the sweetest of love- a wright,
a maker ironically who messes up your make up,
So wrong of me in such a feeling that feels so right,
a cloud of the night, who covers your eyes to the atmosphere,
Whether we weather this together, it isn't a goal of mine,
to get you to any point of dryness
And with all these kisses made of wine; red lips of passion,
with all of the kisses that don't taste less of the finest

Our silhouettes will be animations of our character,
climbing into bed lastly; as the final step of foreplay's ladder
I'm a little old fashioned, wearing myself down,
and wrinkling time with the intentions of leaving lines on your
body matter

No matter;
we'd play prior movie scenes with a little more action,
holding onto a moment in a body's lens- let's capture
The best parts of ourselves, for the best never lasts too long,
so we'd try to get the catchy parts to reminisce on its chorus
Like every popular and trending love song,
but I'm spending too much time on my own words
Especially for someone who has been waiting for so long,
so we'd best play into our desires like playing that song,
                            "baby, let's get it on"

Gorgeous Africa, my beautiful Queen
of a thousand unspoken dreams, whose essence
encapsulates the history and heartache of past struggles
—your tears of past, drown your face in drought,
mirroring the resilience and strength that lie
within your vast landscapes and diverse cultures.

Oh land, oh the lands of dusty colored grass,
presenting a canvas painted with stories as ancient
as time itself —the tale of you; a dossal woven with
the threads of triumphs and tribulations,
each chapter a testament to the enduring spirit
of a continent shaped by the ebb and flow of empires
rising and falling.

You, a child in my eyes, a precious gem awaiting
the embrace of nurturing hands and the light of
understanding —desperately needing to be cherished
and loved, your myriad voices and narratives
seeking to rise above the clamor of past
injustices and carved destinies.

Rise, my child, rise high and so mighty,
until your presence eclipses all doubts and shadows,
a beacon of hope and empowerment for all who call
your vast expanse home —lift her up, lift her up-
her people, a call to unity and support in the
collective journey towards a future shaped by
shared dreams and aspirations.

As she is mine, she is ours to cherish and protect,
a legacy that intertwines our fates and whispers of
a shared destiny waiting to be fulfilled
—lift her up, lift her up- her people, for in her
beauty and complexity, we find the reflection of
our shared humanity and interconnection.

And it’s in this miserable, and
disastrous handy advice,
All that is left; for those who aren’t
as adroit; as fishermen in the game
of love, to find their catch
— a master baiter.

Ends up being what they’ll
believe is the right choice to make
then after, to instead be
— a masturbator.

I am a stone that held a secret,
the echo of a love that was crushed,
And a heart shattered into a million pieces.

That stone skipped over the river of tears,
and carried the weight of sorrow and longing.
Each skip echoed the pain it witnessed,
resonating through the depths of existence.

This stone, forever marked by the power of love,
continues its journey, leaving ripples of
emotions in its wake.

Perfect!

is the world in someone else's head,
perfect would any be- only after
death.
still! we'd all love to pretend,
till we'll realize the truth when we ascend.

those who only know, have reached their end,
those who only know, know only in death.

Only they are-
Perfect!

Spray paint the canvas of the night sky;
the red reflections in my eyes,
silently swallows up a thought,
to save a piece of mind.

So in my waking dream, I navigate
this intricate minefield of love’s emotions,
that all become so probable,
after calling you mine.

I bare myself to thought; a lack of my words,
To express how I feel in the feelings of love,
Lovely are your eyes, lost in a beautiful world,
I'm bare to my desires; emptied by a love's touch,
In the hopes of finding my someone; as a no-one,
To give of my heart, though not much, but it's past love,
But what's love good as without commitment present,
Sweet nothings of empty promise but word's tickles,
Slept on the dreams I cannot share,—sort of restless,
Dependent solely on another,—how so did we live,
Perhaps to find present love; is to find present self,
To receive the love long sought; be a whole love to give,
Where you head into love, do keep your feet—
Love is hard to have, but heavy is heartache's repeat.

You drowned me in a whirlpool of emotions, engulfing
me in the exhilarating sensations of falling in love.
It felt so vivid, like stepping into another realm of
consciousness where the boundaries between reality and
fantasy blur.

Perhaps, it could have been yet another *******, an
intoxicating experience that thrived in the depths of
my subconscious. And amidst this haze of desire,
life appears like a pristine white sheet, evoking a sense of
responsibility to keep it unsullied and untarnished.

Like a diligent custodian, I struggle to navigate the
complexities and challenges that threaten to soil its
purity, to maintain its pristine condition.

There is the time when life flourishes;-
and only but a second when it all vanishes
A winter loveless; makes itself cold – needless,
airless, so emotionless- for is the state of the heart
after sudden loss.

The loss of someone, the loss of love,
the loss of dreams, the loss of time, the loss of faith,
and tragically the loss of hope; - that loveless winter
embraces your mind in a heart’s grief.

You seem afraid, so afraid to break the silence;
still, you can hear your bones break in despair –
and oh despair, “you have choked me in my heart,
banished me - I feel your hand squeezing my trivial
heart made of a speck; sometimes it’s crystal or metal,
nonetheless, it all will break.”

Though suddenly, I snap awake - perhaps it was
just all a dream; - a fierce winter to recall.
It was more, for the somebody taking everything I love,
were my own hands, around the throat of everything
I held dear- all I thought I had lost.

I've never known how to romanticize,
so I just fantasize about you. In my dreams rules
a Queen~ she's decreed a picture into my eyes.
How your skin shines in the night; must be inner
beauty bright as your smile.

But how to put it all in words—like finding new
chords to a training song. I wonder if nowhere does
exist, and how far close to the edge are we close to
our love's end?

A descent into my descending thoughts;
downwards of all my hanging lows. Do bare with me
for being unlike those bare essentials...like yours.

I learnt to you love you quickly, soon after
cherishing you as a friend. With care, and trust
—in a world where the two are so rare.
I considered myself always there, as much I could.
Amongst dreadful woes, as an ear to your cries,
plunging into the seas of deep meaningful conversation.
I wiped those eyes, and comforted you in truth,
over the many lies.

I'd climb your mind, to measure distance of the sky
to prove your worth in timeless imaginings.
Let me remind you time and time again, constantly
—that you're a marvellous creation. I couldn't be your love,
but here I'll rest my loving affections as your family.

Unconventional actions; striving to align with your essence –
Losing fragments of myself; yet each advance pulls me back,
A reminder that it may never be sufficient – I don’t wish to
Approach you too forcefully, but I also yearn to offer more
Then you anticipate as we entwine in this chance act of passion.

You unveiled me with your gaze, your breath a tantalizing
First caress – your lips tease as they graze my skin, your sharpened
Teeth leaving a mark; our scents will linger on these vacant sheets…
Your hair will be tousled, even as you attempt to secure it – your
Body will radiate warmth, and I’ll sweep away the remnants
As if dusting off forgotten corners.

Yet your touch is gentler than the rush of air filling my lungs
As we kiss – you’ll sway your hips, beckoning me closer; that
Image is impossible to dismiss. I’ll immerse myself in the sweat
That pours from your skin – embarking on this journey to
Uncover every tender petal of that vibrant bloom calling out to
Me so fervently, urging me to give everything I have.

As for Youthful romance
It's just like foolish Affairs –
Impulsive decisions, Fleeting emotions.

And if foolish Affairs of Youth serve
A purpose; it Serves as a simple Message:

All young Love, is DUMB love;
Until you Eventually find the ONE.

He is risen,
stone rolled away from tomb
He is risen,
death no had longer it's rule
He is risen,
above it all, above the doom

The Lord Jesus is risen.

I eyed you
by
the corner of
my eye
setting eyes
on
your
pretty
eyes.

Often
to many,
fall
in love
by their eyes
but never
see true
intentions...

Do you intend
to experience
real love,
or just
seeing
to the idea
of
it?

Not all
open
:eyes:
see.

| Gold in your eyes
  black immorals leave you blind

| Immortal pain, forever will they cry
  as you try to decide of all the written
  messages on the wall, you want to reply

| You're like a worker of the night,
   living in the city heights, trying to get high
   Success gives you a fright; you couldn't see yourself
    well in all those bright lights

| Grinding at work, grinding with a girl afterwards
   on a wall. Your job is to answer customer's call,
  And you also had this pretty ******* call; and you
   two did some damage to the wall

| Trying to patch it up, like you tried with an ex
   you got drunk a little extra, in an empty bathtub
    shower, sending her drunk texts
  She thought you were just looking for ***,
  you threw your phone at the wall—it made a mess
  She obviously could smell your intentions with the
   alcohol under your breath

| So you screamed at the wall,
   "I hate you, I hate you all," as always to that wall
  But it wasn't the people you were referring to at all
   it was just at all your personalities, that you only know
  New friends started knocking on the bathroom door,
   people you never knew at all. They found you bouncing
   your anger on the wall, bawling your eyes out on the floor

| You used to have such good conversations with
   the walls; listening to you intentionally
  You filled them with your punches whenever you
   felt empty. Did so, so plenty and affectionately,
   as those walls could credit your pain, with great credibility

| Yours was an unmatched ability
   to tell a good story to an inanimate object so brilliantly
  Wilfully, cutting yourself so short equally,
   as time kissed you on your spine secretly, to pull you
   back in time- minutely, to reminisce on that girl Tiffany

| She was a blonde; only by her kind of dye
   she looked straight through you; only by
    that black eyeliner on her pretty eyes
   She made you seem a sweet tooth addict; only
    by the many times you tasted her cherry pie
   A cherished walk by; she was sort of bi- buying
    your heart both in and out.
   The number of times you told her, "I love you,"
    you'd probably lose count

| Now you just have that wall of where you
   first kissed
  Where you first embraced, and she accepted you
   with your random lisp
   Sharing your clothes of your blue collar salary,
    making sure it came back ironed so crisp
   Supersoaker eyes after— the only catch you had,
    after a long time you had fished

| In two deep, but all you have are these walls;
   they won't talk back to you. But they talk about
   your ex girl. ****, ****, **** these talking walls

Beauty ashes;
rising up. Once in flame.
Tiniest dots in air;
sparked lights- Filtering into night.

Be gone with the night-
O dusk of flame;
great ball fire, behind mountains.

By once day, gone now with night.
Sunsets will fall on your days;
yet with patience- Anew rises again.

Blessings upon you.
Kisses of the sun be in your mouth;
to all, speak of life and light.

Beautiful are-
life's many sunsets.

As I steal a glimpse of the clock's dance,
A yearning swells within, a fleeting chance.
Moments slip through my grasp, like sand they flow,
Tick-tock, they whisper, time won't slow.

The hands move ceaselessly, a gentle plea,
To remind me that time won't wait for me.
No pause, no respite, it marches on,
Ignoring my plea for serenity's song.

Speaking in tongues in accordance of
      The audience, prior the winds of your voice
To be spoken in my ear of that accordion
      Accordingly so of the bellows—the chorus of
Love in that mellow tone of a Holy orchestra
      A symphony of the Bible; all revealing many mysteries
As I constantly read more of you

All the text setting a picture of your context
my joy is content: not like a performance
      Of this world's contest

Psalms 121:1‭-‬2 NIV
I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
    where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

So as the top would say;
I'd lift my eyes higher than the mountains
    To you Lord—
Of where my help comes from everyday

So I pray: to be humbled by your grace—
    non dependent on man to guarantee the will
Of your way
    In Jesus name I pray, Amen.

And every time you and I;
       kiss, kiss,
The space in our tongues go;
       hiss, hiss.

In the moment;

I'm amiss to the bliss,
forgetting all our conflicts.

As the snake in our words,
slithers out of our lips...

What kind of love is this?

We've bitten into the desires of lust, fears, and peers.
Such is an apple;
you and I darling, couldn't resist.

A reason to love, a reason to touch,
to add a little spice.
Freedom isn't a crime, but just a dream
inside of my eye. As the temperature rise,
heating our passions that come with no surprise.

The taste of your lips, the glare of your dirt
eyes. The warmth of your breath, in the cusp
of the bodies; two curves meeting inside.
Pillow soaked emotions, crisp sheets of a former
time. Kissing and cuddling, to reimagine anew
reason why I call you mine.

The tickles down spine, river flow in streams
in it's continuous body. A candle at night,
by the side to light this activity of a nightlife.
Brushing affection under covers beneath the feet,
and such a treat. Blood rushing to the face, of
red cheeks. As like two of the sweetest overripe apples.

Toes so shaky as business hands at the longest meet
and greet, Overjoyed as if it were a last dance,
Would you at least dance one last dance with me?
A tango in the sheets—rhythms and postures, and
abrupt pauses.

Oh your sweet perfume, blows loveliness in the wind,
in a kiss of a breeze—as our tongues caught in a knot.
Twisting in the unturned direction of an advance,
a paid forward gesture of asking you out on a dinner date.
Hoping in simple conversation, we could relate. And by fate
I hoped from that day, you'd be my forever mate.

A tiny spark can start a fire, so I hoped to kindle
a little joy to burn eternally throughout the years.
For the echo flame to continue on after the children's birth.

Mother earth, of your womb and breast as a giver and
sustainer of life. Tis a pen *******; of words cutting deep
of my favourable piece. I'm seamlessly inspired as I write.  
You're a sight for words, breathless at the first take, and I
could bet my words to describe, such a passion of love has even
more words to express.

But for this time, three hundred and fifty two words
is all I could get. I hope that's okay?

And where evil rests'
Lies their hands:
As lust appears in eyes'
They've all tasted it's flesh:
And what came of heart'
Twas the blood of Man' scars.

Under the first sun'
We've risen from dust;
From bone, woman to flesh
And what hung under fruit'
Twas the taste of it's sin.

In the open dry land'
Were two of one womb;
One of worship, other jealousy:
For when the latter grew'
Twas the stone that killed.

So man' sin continued on:

As for it's sake;
The Earth needed a piece of God'
For their sins to branch off;
His child placed on wooden Cross.

And so-
Heaven's fallen flower; Rose.

I’m just a stone; skipping carelessly
through streams of love.
  One
      Two,
          Maybe three
Seeing how far I’ll make it this time; distant
enough to not see where I immediately sink.
  One
      Two
          Three,
             I made it to four
Still however far you go, the awkward silence
you can hear, is a distant failure’s echo.
  One
      Two
          Three
             Four,
              Must be luck to make five
With the smooth skins of stone, often to tattoo the
smoothest words on tongue; patiently ready.
One
      Two
          Three
             Four
              Five,
               Honestly, best not to count on your failures,

Its so easy to lose count, but just count on one:
—the one day you eventually find what you’re looking for.
One day does feel like a distant arrival, still it will be
one day, you’ll know you have found the one.

Cherry lips- the bite of sweetness in the very kiss
stings at my flustered cheeks; breaking my eyes to
tears, as I shut my eyes. My love, I have no doubt about
the warmth of your touch under my skin—beneath it all lies
a treasure chest, a key to unlock the flood of emotions that
surge like waves crashing around us.

We are ultimately overwhelmed by the layers—
the concern for another’s happiness woven into whispered
prayers; calling out for her soul- I once stood as a warrior,
battling my own feelings. But it gets so hard to contain my eyes
when we’re both naked and alone- a warrior standing in front
of a Medusa who turns me head to hard stone

I feel so ahead of myself- but our faces play no deceit,
in her eyes she’s made me so weak; to treasure every
step she takes walking on my mind- I should kiss her feet;
I should bow to her, showering her with love in every
fleeting moment, crafting a week worth cherishing.

          Ah, the ecstasy of those cherry-kissed lips...


Oh, the sheer joy that washes over me when my lips meet
those delectable cherry-kissed lips are simply enchanting!
It's as if a cascade of emotions erupts like a dazzling display
of fireworks, igniting a flame of passion that flickers at the
corners of my mind, crafting a rich embroidery of sensations
that is both exhilarating and intoxicating.

The sweet taste lingers on my tongue, a delightful reminder
of the magic that unfolds with every tender kiss; a euphoric
daydream that whisks me away to a realm where time ceases
to exist, and the only sound that fills the space is the rhythmic
thrum of my heart, blending seamlessly with the symphony
of longing that envelops us.

It's a real struggle for me
To be near you, and truly be myself –
Sometimes I feel like I'm either breaking free
from my shell or retreating back into myself

Yet, one thing is clear:
I'm like a timid pet turtle, gradually falling
in love with you – not knowing what to do with itself.

Objects in the mirror,
aren’t so clear as they want to appear; trying to pretend
life isn’t so hard,- only disguises itself behind a facade.
While living an empty dream in a bottle;
sometimes I feel so trapped in that same bottle's charade.  
Forever thirsty for more of time; the flesh never truly satisfied,
and attempting to shed the past, with bones so long dried.

There’s question of
whether, all we really desire is truly attainable,
Some of it feels so unavailable; giving someone a whole universe,
for them to prefer some space. Even when there’s a lot of
relative justice- there are moments when I struggle to
connect with others, cos I don’t feel as relatable.

Where’s the point of
crying out your piece of mind, even when they claim
to call all of your actions, sharp sometimes?  
And do you see yourself clearly in a broken mirror
sometimes- with its shards piercing right in your eyes?
Cos if you can’t afford to take it all in, you’ll just cut
a moment short, with that broken piece of mind.

Green tint to your hair dye;
with a purple shade of lips.
All now complete with purple
makeup on your eye.

Made up blemishes and all;
paints the stroke of realism.
Unlovable parts to be loved;
Too much of a free spirit,
to keep count of your soul.

Rest upon my artistic love;
though I don't own a mattress.
Been long to train out my love;
and exercising my emotions.
So I might be out of practice.

Drew out my heart;
drawing out your picture,
As I fell in love with an idea.
What a pencil put onto paper;
as I drew you out all alone.
But hopes of being a feature.

(Lonesome artist)

In love with his drawings;
but also an artist ever so lonely.

I saw the time in your eyes,
that had me pause my breath like a stopwatch,
As if the feelings were a crime, that had
me caught out with what all it had got.
Cos when love had robbed my heart;
I grew impatient to go and call the cops.

Or was it me being impaired,
to humbly assume we could have made a perfect pair?
For the chorus of kisses subtly convinced every troubled
thought, dancing carelessly on top of my hair.
I could have been trying to force fit a puzzle piece, but it
only cuts me into pieces, realizing it was all a jigsaw.
And to nobody’s own prediction, “a shoot your shot
moment,” could prove to be so lethal.

Three stanzas; a standard for a quick understanding;
Accepting what’s current; a love of passion quickly
turning out so passive— a casual happening.
A cold turn, in the direction of a quicken head,
turning to have a glimpse of you as much.
But for this time, after having the taste of another broken
heart, I’ll put a stop to that broken stopwatch.

Draw out all of your dreams;
the picture of it is much bigger than
it seems,
Could you give up that pen,
an addict to words that describe yourself?

Daily confessions; d on the words I'll
scribe;
Probably on the lines of a paper to my life,
burning the old ways of myself,
The pen being the lighter.

I drew a dream in pen;
to last me forever,
Coloured the edges in bold,
just to feed my desires of pleasure.

A pleasure to be brave enough to
hold onto a dream, than onto guilt,
hold onto my heart, than onto a grudge,
hold onto my spirit, than onto empty pieces.

Pen out the picture;
words can't describe. In the spirit of giving;
giving myself the joy of a pen's reason-

To keep writing; when the words are short,
To keep scheming; when it feels pointless thinking,
To keep at it; when you feel so hopeless.

A spirited writer only dies,
when they decide to give up the pen.