The price of a critically known, costs me being
secretly alone. Torn in all of the successes,
and what it took on all the stages I now perform.
Oh where is my soul, where is my soul?

Children of a whole lot of broken homes,
too broke for the things they can't afford.
I just wanted to buy things I could hold,
a little successful wealth to call my own.
Oh where is my soul, where is my soul?

A crying voice in a cheerful poem,
a choking **** disguised as a rose.
In my heart—all cracks and holes,
and I hope you don't see into it, to question it's morals.
I'm a thousand hurts, in a few hundred acclaimed poems.
Oh where is my soul, where is my soul?

A desire to love; desired to have been loved,
to an open hand joy, not trapped in a glove.
Not laughing at myself, as being less than enough,
feeding on my pleasures, and but still to starve.
I have no place for my heart—but just the scars pus.
Oh where is my soul, where is my soul?

Really I don't know!

Ghostly shadows, but what ghost
really casts a shadow—cousins?
The ghost and a shadow, still in my room
at the edge of the bed.

A ghost of unhappiness, and a shadow
of these lonely despairs. Both related.

Mother nature taught me how to grow,
Father time forces me to wait for it.
The Mistress of death would love to rush
the process. Brothers in arms, alarming the gun
sounds in my head—my constant ringing headaches.
Sister company, sharing the pain of a common
parent entity

Interesting family picture.

Hourglass figures; individuals who invest countless hours crafting
a glass figure. When life tosses you around, you’re bound to shatter –
so meagre!

You repugnant creature, crumbling and oozing into this vessel, as
the grains of sand cascade within all the time you thought your
beauty had bought. You gaze at it, chasing the dazzling glow of
notoriety, unaware that such brilliance will gnaw away at your very
bones, leaving you broken and cold.

Within the heart of every renowned star lies a tumultuous inferno,
a labyrinth of madness that serves as your ultimate reward.

Twin eyes to those hours we were apart,
double standards of monetary values; the
monitoring funds to buy out your heart, in
preparation for the view of love to come

It fills my feet with a blesséd relief; walks
of faith with tears for the damp streets—
a tongue in dormancy, doesn’t have much
good for itself to say; desperately fighting
back the great sickness of life— having to
be so patient with this world

Hanging on the ledge, eyes gauzed with silver
mist, to try and seek out a golden approval of
those gone too soon to the brilliant sky, where
the air floats above a turquoise-like dome
In a time that is of mirrored jade; of those
waiting to be heard, and those who dreamt of
a better life far ahead

Farewell, my beloved paradox,
that will forever linger in my thoughts and heart.
The memory of your captivating fragrance,
distinct and unmistakable, will forever stay with me,
patiently anticipating your fateful reunion- that I long
for with every fibre of my being. Come not so hurriedly,
yet in time- so as to have the gentle cadence of your footsteps
linger delicately in the passing hours.

Although the whispers of your presence evade my ears,
your essence reunites with mine once more. Across alternate
lifetimes, where fate doesn't guarantee romantic interlacing,
my affection for you transcends as a steadfast companion,
devoted beyond the confines of romantic love.

Soles of white dusty red shoes,
Old laces, and pieces of plastic on the tips,
Newspapers to add space in a mediocre label,
Fake Vans, that ironically says, ‘Original’
In place of that brand’s tag.

Red, and reliable like the last piece of value,
In a house of not many valuable things.
Except the memories of the places I’ve walked,
Bruising my ******* jamming my back heel,
Into a rather than tight new pair.

“These are supposed to be size nines”

As like the age my foot grew longer than I did,
Taking every corner before I did. Indicating loudly,
Which next turn I’m going to take.

Truly shy of my foot without the covering protection,
Of a common shoe. Don’t judge how far I’ve been,
By the measure of the state of my shoes.

I haven’t been that far...

Though I would like to have,
To foreign places like the land I bought my shoes.

Today I had to throw them away,
Which felt like I threw away...

A piece of a memory,
A piece of my wealth,
A piece of myself,
A piece of favourite clothing,

Worn so proudly on my feet.
Farewell to my reliable old red shoes...Sigh!

the start of the conversation, and you're yelling,
"where has your *** been,"

  he gives you headaches, you're
                addicted to aspirins.

but really what you're asking him,
is whether he was out with the boys relaxing —

he always says, "no, I was just running late"

you tell him straight,
"listen here boy, please stop feeding
me more lies,
              I'm fasting"

I am not liberated; I’ll be drinking till I’m free
Dancing like a puppet; a puppet with no strings
If this is the land of promise; promise that none
Of the promises have skipped me

Do not assume that it’s over, to consume your  
Self-worth to just presume that you’re sober  
To close your eyes, to feel your joy coming closer
I do not amuse the fact of getting older, or overlook
The fact that the world is close to being over

Here is the past, images of your youth running past
Memories of it all, live as long as you last, be careful
Not to be chasing the pleasures of it, as chasing after lust
Take a secret fast; cleanse yourself of the regrets that
Have come past

A woman, bears the responsibility
of bearing her husband a son –
His legacy

Yet, even as she presents him
with a daughter, she gives him
a gift he never knew he had –
A soft heart

And in all that she offers him,
she provides a reason for him to
embrace the fullness of,

                                 Fatherhood!

I'd tell my child;
"why would you want to be like me,
when I've raised you well to be even better,
Are we not gods; created by the greater God,
as greatest is what we are. You'd seek perfection,
but being a better version of yesterday self,
is what you'll find"

I'd tell my child;
"promise me you won't fight as long, to become
the ones we've fought against. There are no true
successors to war; if the Dead are the only to know
it's end. I'd best fight those battles long before you do.

I'd tell my child;
"the world will beat you up, long before you
learn how to fight. A lover seems weak in their
eyes, but they're just weaker to love"

I'd tell my child;
"no effort is worth the effort without it's due.
Working yourself to death for another's livelihood,
seems like the slavery of old in modern times"

I'd tell you child many things, but still there are
many things I'm yet to learn and discover.  
As much as I can teach, I learn a lot from you.
I only became a father, after I became a father to you.

By the attraction of scent; my nose has been called,
Falling into the sweetest embrace,
Called into it's descent.
  
Conspicuous; truly is the word making up her face,
And beauty; heavy as the anchor of emotions she brings,
All that's seen, is her bare honesty,
Open to my eyes, as all of her is exposed.
            
I picked her as with a touch bitter sweet,
Quickly cut by her thorns.

As I recently learnt, of all her very worth,
All truly rooted to ground,
And down to Earth.

Red, as the cherry blossom of blushing cheeks,
Green, as the valleys watered by Heaven's tears,
Brown, in the grounds as smooth as my skin,
My favourite flower, is a Rose.

My biggest fear:

Is someone knowing all of my biggest fears,
just to use them all against me.

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

In the realm of your mentions,
I often find myself trapped in the complicated
dance of the friend zone, where boundaries
blur and desires ignite.

It is in this contradictory space that I feel
compelled to express my thoughts about your mentions:
the captivating allure of your flowing waves,
so enchanting in their beautiful movement,
it has this irresistible magnetic pull.
Each gentle touch from your lips, like a heavenly elixir,
envelops my senses in a delicate yet intoxicating flavor,
leaving me wanting more.

In the midst of these tangled emotions,
I search for the perfect words, longing to express
my deepest desires that lie dormant within me.
It is a delicate balancing act, where my words weave
a tapestry of passion and longing, intricately
intertwined with yours.

In my imagination, I hold onto the image of your
graceful neck, a natural masterpiece of elegance,
as I yearn to run my fingers along its curves,
savoring the tactile sensation that only you can provide.
And your *******, a source of sweet nectar like no other,
tempt me to call you honey, for in your presence, I become
a fervent bee, desperate to leave a lasting mark on your skin, surrendering to the insatiable hunger that consumes me.

Awakening the dormant beast within me
is effortless in your presence, as I battle the resistance
that arises within the confines of my jeans,
A silent testament to the fiery desire that burns within me.
Guided by instinct, my lips explore the paths that lead
to the core of your being, seeking the hidden treasures that
reside within the depths of your sacred temple.

Each touch, each exploration, holds the promise of uncharted territories, dormant passions waiting to be unleashed.
And with each longing gaze, it seems I have revealed
the pirate that resides in my eyes, setting sail a fleet of ships,
fueled by an insatiable hunger that yearns to consume you completely, like the meeting of two forces.

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.

Kiss me under my eye, for a reason for me to want to see you again.

igniting a fire within my soul, making me crave more
of your presence in my life.

Place a mat of your love on my back, to remind
me I need to tidy up my past.
With your unwavering support, I'll know I always have
you, even with the dirt I might bring home
Put a flower in my mouth every time we kiss,
so I can have a last taste of beauty before you go.
Later on we'll have late conversation when my confidence
blooms, at a call to rise;— the flower better be a rose.

Snip a piece of your hair to tie with my belt
buckle, just so I can wear a memory of you,
buckling at the future and all of our perfect heirs.

Cut a collar of my shirt, to have me by the neck.

intimate and possessive,
to symbolize your claim over me.

And if that material wears out, you can wear
my incense instead. Like your sweet perfume that gets
stuck on my neck; digging into my flesh with desire
—I'll be cut throat when it comes to show how you make me feel.

With all feelings involved, I can definitely say
what I'm feeling of those scary words,
"I think I'm falling in love"

My emotions are trapped, reverberating
like a haunting echo bouncing back and forth.
In my youth, I read that wealth is in the mind;
does this imply that only contemplating
about riches can manifest all the fortune I want?

And am I in haze of indulgence – thinking
only about ****, whenever my responses
come out blunt?

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.

I was once-
swallowed by the sun;
that spat out a star,
That was shot into the ocean,
swimming a thousand miles...

By the shores-
of what was foreign land,
Different to their eyes,
of my dark bright skin, and
strangest ideas...

As when you're unique-
you'll walk a longer mile;
finding your way to fit in...

The proof;
is all under,
my feet.

The greatest betrayal?

When the positivity-giver isn’t so
positive themselves. When the light
they hand out doesn’t reach their
own shadow.

Belief in self-worth— they say it’s
your shell. But I haven’t found the
pearl that fits my shape.

Still liquid—I form myself to every
room, shape my smile to fit their
forecast. These tears? Not weakness.
Just soil erosion.

Washing away what held me—
leaving me bare, unready for tomorrow’s
weight. Like the trampled flower—
I’m not phased. I remember the feet
that pressed me into the same ground
I bloomed from.

I haven’t forgotten all those soles
that stepped on my feat.

Considering that this would be the rough touch
A thousand different days gone, yet nothing changed of much.
Though if be the felt
Had I been told earlier, that might of helped.

A little more white covers on the lonely bed, just don't be mistaken of me being KKK
Better yet I wouldn't appreciate being closely like to they.
Thank you very much
To those who filled my plate with their hate, but apologises for not taking it for lunch.

And if we could have felt a relation to each through a heart, we would be The Peoples of People's
Yet alas we moved to far apart from the distance spread out in the hay stack full of needles.

Driving past with a window of dark tint
Felt as though your sour voice was disguised as Apple mint.
Magic cities but with the imagery of all but evil things and a whole lot of voodoo
Old to the minds and physical, putting brand new clothes. Try to feel Brand New.

Felt you were all on this yet I'm stuck on that
A lot of fake richness be what makes you such a spoiled brat.

Day and night would a corrupt system change
If the chapter felt to put me in a snooze could I flip to the very next page.
Just tell me of what I felt when I walked in a cold room with colder people.
Life could be a gun for it feels so lethal.

Felt.

I chased after a shadow living behind a dream,
stuck in the way of lights, like a stunned deer
Finding ascensions to the clouds by a life’s amount,
as the days count down; time runs up- to eventually
run out

A human life worth gold for a time; comforts that reside
in the life of those growing up with a silver spoon
Others guided forward, from a backside given a good
wooden spoon

Passing through a lifetime of judgements of a past life
for prophets who see the future first; foretelling
a destiny, to make profit into a human’s eyes

These human genes, feel so humid in these jeans
for all the objects much darker than they really appear
So said, the monster looking at themselves in the mirror,
while drowning in a pool of tears; afloat— triumphing on
old fears

As I slumber, dreaming upon many things
Building upon my inner thoughts.
Seeking for myself across these dreams.

Fictual ideas I do say.

I slept across the early morning
Waiting upon another day to arrive as the day was dawning.
In my dreams I find myself hiding
Subsiding upon wakeness from the lack of sleep it's providing....

Often the real Truth of my pain is that denying.
Given the chance of many split end dreams to be only yet dividing.

My common denominator is not as inspiring
But I'm perhaps lying.

For in my fictual nightmares I'm liken to play a villain
Who sits on a high chair looking down upon peasants. Holding the world through his fingers.
I admit the idea feels quite thrilling.

Yet I'm forced to play a fool in the realms of reality
Basically denying my crave as a man yearning to conquer.
Living life carefree,
Yet they wonder why I wish to sleep across the nights so much longer.

But there is no bother,
I take my long sleeps as a basis to discover.
Who the man inside of me is destined to be....
When all the young eyes will look my way and only see ME.

Soon  they'd know what beckons through my fictual nightmares, the never-ending story
Acting as the animal claiming his mark while marking his territory.

Wishing not been seen as weak,
And if sleeping across several nights builds up on my strength
Shall I not sleep across an entire week.

In these smitten eyes, a burning yearn blazes
like wildfires, engulfing all in its path,
mercilessly suffocating even the most simple exhale.
The intensity of this consuming desire is vividly
expressed through the haughty, yet innocent glare of her eyes,
which seem to whisper, "I can't breathe."

However, these kisses that were once seen as innocent
have now transformed into the fulfillment of a guilty pleasure.
As two hearts beat rapidly, racing in tandem,
their bodies pulsating with anticipation, they can't help
but feel the weight of the missed opportunities.
It beats against them, a reminder that this connection
could have sprouted sooner, had they not succumbed to the constraints of their own expectations.
Like a delicate flower in the hands of a late bloomer,
their love blossoms, fragile yet beautiful.

Caught in a spell of danger, these two lovers
find themselves immersed in a simmering *** of
conflicting emotions. Swirling in and out,
their feelings dance to a melody disrupted by
the intrusion of spoken words.
Yet, even in this chaotic symphony, their tongues
weave a dance of their own, seeking solace and connection.

Oh, how they yearn for these enchanting kisses
to last for eternity, to freeze time and preserve the magic they share.
If only such a sublime connection could endure forever,
like an eternal flame, burning relentlessly with the
passion that unites their souls.

somewhere out in the world, somebody’s child is dying –
we all should be crying, but being miles apart, you right
now could be smiling – knowing not a thing

life is often tragedy; in other times it’s the happier times
to make us smile. we are a billion diamonds reflecting
each other lights – we hope to live, we all know we’ll
die, some hope for peace, still we fight within this life
to try and survive  

we do our best to dream, even when sleep has other plans
so for some, they re-enact the scenes from dreams to make
them seem real. though the past is gone, some of the memories
of it don’t make a retreat; some hope for peace, still we fight
within this life to try and survive  
                seems we’ve always been bred to fight.

Always stuck inside a world
******* me over; loves
to fornicate
The mouths with nothing better
to say; just words forming hate
And their eyes filled with ******
violence; it's always focused hate

As I was close to meeting death's deadline,
not even given two weeks notice
They assumed I was too weak to notice
as the smell of death was red, like a
resting bed of roses; in a garden
grave I lay
But maybe nowadays I'd be seeing songs
about how graves turn into gardens
Still it's grave for me to say, I'm still on
that path of feeling saved
As I could probably count all my prayers,
and dig up that dusty Holy text in my drawer
that's like the book's final grave

I figure that the figures counting
out another day
Are what we figure gives us a little
hope of being figures to this world,
That still live to see tomorrow by
heaven's sake

And then,
like a tempest, emotions surged through my mind –
ah, I believe it could only be the work of a UFO,

And there she stood,
a tall figure, her fingers surprisingly short –
they nicknamed her Finn; a name laced with irony,
for she relishes the Adventure time in the depths
of my heart, soul, body, and mind.

And truly she’s a catch;
swimming so effortlessly, and gliding so gracefully
through the currents of my every thought…

                                                       ­     Finn the girl.

To burn...in these echoes of warmth, the
warm regards, warmest hugs and a hello
of a long seen friend. Fires burns in my chest.

Till the face glows; in the light of a friendly
smile. We'll all be the stars under the sun,
deeming light of inspiration in their lives.
The lives of those lost in the dark—guide them
with your spark.

Soon my child...you'll find that match,
fuelling the already passionate flame of love.
To rest your burning eyes of desire on loving
your spouse by fireplace of your house.

We'll be dreaming of the stars set in our names,
searing the old till ash—enkindled in this hope
you'll find. The future is bright, at the end of the
tunnel is that shinning light. You've got the will
to survive. Keep up the good fight!

Blistering scars do come with time, in the degrees
of many scolding hurts. You were created well to
take the heat.

There's a fire in us all. A fire unlike no other,
there is a fire in us all. 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

She says,

"Open up your eyes to me," while we were on a blind date.
Some opinions come a bit late; early remarks are great —
And there’s a fearful much of men, of that phrase,
"oh, I'm late."

But I fear when she's running late for our date,
And secretly isn't coming anyway.

So my eyes remain shut; as from first interactions,
It looks for us, this thing isn’t going anywhere!

I remember long texts, and shy long
calls at night; over the limited Wi-Fi.
The rosy cheeks, stomach knots, and awkward
laughs when I was referred to as, "my guy."

"My mans, baby, and the occasional cutie,"
usually after I say something sweet. And making
those gestures at tasting those lips.

The angry rants, unplanned arguments,
unnecessary jabs, soon after the honeymoon
season is gone. The long cries, silent treatments,
and cold shoulders. The missing each other afterwards,
and making dues in maturity, for it grow much older.

Saving up for those dates, cringing afterwards
because of my table manner mistakes.
Coffee for lunch, couple pictures for dinner,
and posting statuses that people can't get enough of.
And the few who got sick of us being love sick,
posting another picture for the week.

The first feeling of love;
oh what a rush. From awkward friends,
into a crush. Head nod greetings, into longer
hugs. How could I forget that feeling of the first
time being in love?

My first feeling of love...

I'm a thought riding in the
back of your mind.
It must be a taxi cab.
Left my impression on you like
a fading image. A tattoo on your hand.

First impressions, are the ones  
with the most weight.
It all becomes a series of steps upon that scale.
I just hope the first time wasn't a mistake.

To applauding of the stars
the pleasing sight of God
  Mesmerising were the words spoken on
    to have loved, to have once been in love.

To as a Queen; ruling my heart
she—black beauty, as the blanket dark of
  night; filled in angel’s stars.
   Mystic dust, upon the early virtue of time.
     To have loved so young.

To have tasted a fruit of passion
  minor still, but a major experience
   That which is in present, a memory entangled
    in my dreams. I’m restless,—

As my lips quiver of a then long before
  Longing presently; ‘verly for more
   As so—how could I ever forget...
          forget the first I kissed a girl!

I rummaged through my wallet, checking if my card
was still nestled safely inside. “Yep, it’s here,” I muttered,
counting the cash I had on hand, just in case the card
decided to let me down.

Ah, our first date; my nerves were a whirlwind,
as I had never really ventured out with girls before.
A milestone in so many ways—my first date with a girl,
the inaugural use of my own credit card, and the first
time my hard-earned money spent on someone other
than myself or my parents.

And if I play my cards right, it might just
lead to our first kiss.

what has happened to your hand, its touch has gone so cold – you
don’t hold me as you did before; that first time we fell in love, we
could spend hours of the night tangled to each other. I wasn’t as
pretty as the other girls, still when you held me, you felt a sense of power - an ownership. you never demanded much from me; you understood how shy I got at the beginning – yet that never stopped you from acting so possessive

even in the times I knew you cheated on me – going after those with much smoother skin, and who held that bolder strike; I knew that you’d never forget me – I was your first after all. I gave you the belief in your dreams, gave you confidence to show off your talents, helped you through your struggles, gave you a meaningful way to express your problems. darling I was your unshakable addiction, the mistress who added value to your diction, darling I was with you when you wrote your very first poem


what has happened to your hand, its touch has gone so cold – I hope
you found the right girl, still I’ll love you forever even when you get a
touch of every one of them in their words.





“And I too will love you forever, my first love…
my write, my words, forever my first poem that
came from you… my Eversharp pen."

My love for you is a mile
a journey
a long road
an odyssey
an adventure
but I'm yet to find
the footing
the first step
of telling you
"I like you"

Even a flat girl can say things with her chest,
Any man can say a lot – but have their heart
Broken in a sec; a lot of us think about ***,
Before identifying your worth in the right
Headspace...

To catch a floating dream with a sky hook,
Picking the empty book, with the cover that had
Good looks – don’t read that line about a story;

But just the story of your life, where you dated
A few ugly hearted dudes; maybe I should apologize
For all the Apollos with the good hooks

“Plenty fish in the see,”
But one bad fisher, spoils the catch of another,
He catches, just to toss away – on two different
Boats, distances away; but hey,

“All fishermen are just the same”

Past time alert, overkill the statement.
Seeing demons, give me the steps to conquer them to bring light to the darkness of a heart's basement.
Pull the plug to let it sink down the drain,
Down be fallen my brain often.  I go insane.

Is it ment to be, a lost child in a cold wilderness,
Father, Father, where have I lost my sight to you, I as your witness.
For I've seen such a crime of man killing each other with harsh words.
Last week gunned down by a racist remark, blood shed with pieces of bone eaten up by black birds.
War in evil eyes, you claim to do it to protect the innocent,
Rivers of blood, drown in your own guilt and choke down on a spoonful of cinnamon.

O'that  girl pushed out the street,
You fed her good no,with just your distasteful piece of meat.
Little girl how good you had it when you had purpose,
But the man of my gender robbed you and left you worthless.
I'm sorry for that, I beg for your forgiveness. I'll take the blame.
How beautiful you were till he put ugliness on your face. Such a shame.

Do none hear the crying out there,  a thousand sons and daughters without fathers.
Demons creeping by their bedroom doors. How they hide underneath the sheets and covers.

But we still be chasing our tails when they don't exist,
Why not chase to be the first to lend a hand to each. Open your hand, why do you try to help with a ****** Fist.

I've seen a colourful world,
in her tie dye eyes

Around someone's neck; holding onto her,
my hand being like a neck tie

Her ears were full of bullets,
of so many shoot your shot pickup lines

Only kissing a few; but some wet kisses
are just lips licked so well, to lubricate their lies

As we've all wanted to say we've been in love- once,
even if we loved someone for only a time

From the trenches of our many past hurts,
digging into each's heart, to say they were once mine

To the friendly hugs with foes, we try to forgive,
seeing all those we've loved before; giving a public smile

Many times sending out advances; not always delivered,
learning that the quiet ones attract a lot of attention- a high profile

In this curious scent of love always in the air,
I wonder if we still feel like floating aimlessly in the meanwhile

    I mean,

I've seen so much before, heard it all, felt the after of a fall
said so much I can't recall, and it all stank like a stinkball

                                         ...when I was in love five years ago.

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.

Can’t help myself from swimming
SO DEEP,

In your thoughts –

It’s really the depth of your
conversation, that keeps me afloat.

Cast forth a handful of these pro seeds;
a promise of potential – hoping the value of
them, proceeds the muck that clings to your spirit.
The filth of your mind you must strain per sieve;
being wise to carry a filter, for all the shadows that
your mind will perceive.

As I'm learning the art of resilience;
refusing to fret whenever life wears me down
– like a flower dressed by the whims of the seasons;
whether you like it out, life is full of these changes.
So gather a bouquet of flowers on top of your head,
to remind you of such a nature, and don them as
a regal crown.

To serve Queen till death
a bee had stung my arm
and died

Tis nature, is it not?

I haven't exactly fallen head over heels,
but there's something about the sheer
beauty of flowers that captivates me.

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

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

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

Dye a picture of an ugly world to that empty gaze
—sort of like your makeup disguise; but not so much the
makeup for shallow beauty standards, overshadowed by
dark eyeshadow. As she puts on a lot of guard, that her
body feels like a suit of armour that emphasize flaws

While her eyes sparkle a quick romance; so much heat
coming out of her pores; hot sweats while he sits next to her,
calls her name, and glances her way… a nocturnal creature,
pressed against the heat of day, pressed against the wall, that
she broke a bottle of hot stuff in her back pocket; to claim
she had a fire ***

To be honest, he’s really the bigger *** of them both,
incapable of hiding his cockiness — pants caught down
they’re so outlandishly unlike; but that makes them like
each other more, and much like the petals that gracefully
descend to the ground: their story of love starts falling aside

Embrace the future's call
treasure the present's glow
and transcend the bygone flow.

Find myself, find myself- trying to find something to write about;
the words arrive as if they owe me a debt for the reflections
I’ve already invested. If you could loan me a few phrases,
to bank on crafting something that’s truly worth your time.

We shared a moment, you pouring out your thoughts while
I absorbed every word, my voice trapped in a writer’s block.
Kissing by that corner, parked in my feelings- we took a neutral
agreement that our first kiss would remain a secret between us.
But we had shifting ideas; you preferred discretion, while I
yearned to shout from the rooftops about finally kissing a girl.

But I… had this imagination of being able to read your mind
by your eyes spelling of tears- each time you cried out what
your first relationship should be. But could it be just me,
thinking that you were hinting at something, when you
spoke those words, to maybe pass a hint at me?

And I’m like a folding chair for the memory of you, sitting
on my mind- folding into myself; collapsing inward, delicate
as paper ready to be transformed into paper planes- the again,
I was just a guy flying around your head.

                                  A fly by night crush.