Happy at work,
much happier alone at home.
Out a little outside the world,
being a moment alone is a much better free roam.

Home,
is where the good food is.

And so, it seems like an additional day
you’re back counting on misfortunes,
As when they named you spoiled,
that always made you feel so less important,
A foreigner everywhere in gatherings;
as your spoken words, feel imported,
You’ve felt like fallen wine, as all your
maturity blemished the floors—
A child grounded, by your countless flaws.

Dreadfully ascending out of your many
troubles, but you slip up on life’s stairs,
As all of those hypothetical elevating eyes;
sometimes bring you down, with people’s
awkward stares.

You’ve done your best, while
pretending like you never tire,
But sometimes you lose the grip to
that drive, like a worn-down tyre,
Still, you have to wear a heroic smile
as a part of your attire;
—and between having a part of will to
do any well, the world spins the notion
of it not being so, like a tyre.

You’re covering up a wave of hidden
emotions, in a couple ***** durags,
Articulating them, always feels too late,
—a poor clothing of words; in these due rags.

In truth, you feel like words
that sound the same, but with
two different meanings,
Your life is just this relentless,
finding out one remarkable meaning,
As your purpose is what you’ll look out
yourself...no I mean, In.

Honesty of this heart, I would not live to give my darling the whole world to have for it's not mine to own.
Or a million dollars for that doesn't fill my pockets, for I'm not a Puppet to money, neither it's pawn.
But I surely have something different in this very heart to give,
This that is the real me, not any of the lies I would tell you to deceive.

You are a honeyed vessel
Where nobility is born
As time fills it up, until it
Overflows with sweetness

An eye for nurturing life,
As a caretaker who stands firm,  
Adhering to my heart, as your
Tender love’s warmth unfolds

///a bee you see;
does all for its queen-
my honey bee, my honey queen,
so sweet are your eyes; that I prize
a honey fortune to fight for;- a deathly sting.

///the sky is the limit;- don’t limit
your sights on how far you see yourself going;
a worthwhile could be hidden in a well kept
promise, as the curve lost in your smile, and
the sparkle in your eyes all captivate others
to keep on hoping.

To bury a charm within this grass;
Let it stretch out my reach by a third of an arm-
I've been a love dealer, I was a third wheeler;
I was a candle maker, before the candle holder
Drifting in the breeze like a forlorn leaf
From a withered flower...

So cover my face in dirt,
To bury myself beneath the charm that does
The heavy lifting- love is so unforgiving; pulls me
Back further away- it's so **** receding, yet my longing
Only grows stronger; but I sound needy even
When I'm pleading; still my heart is bleeding

Still a man now, but also just a hopeless creature

Kissing under the gaze of the twinkling stars,
with the moon softly illuminating our embrace,
a tender melody whispered through the night air,
its notes a gentle serenade to our budding love
—reminiscent of innocent children joyfully
chanting a prayer.

In that timeless moment,
as we became lost in each other's presence,
I found myself wishing fervently for this
enchanting connection to linger for eternity,
to be relived over and over. Nostalgia filled
my heart as I envisioned our souls intertwined
in a dance of everlasting affection, painting
our future with hues of passion and devotion.

Yet, the quiet whisper of reality began
to seep through the soft night,
reminding me that all enchantments must
eventually yield to the break of dawn.

With a wistful sigh and a sense of acceptance,
I held onto this fleeting interlude of happiness,
drawing strength from the memory of
celestial magic that had woven us together in
a cocoon of love and longing.

And so, as the first light of morning peeked
over the horizon, signaling the end of us, and
timeless embrace, I embraced the bittersweet
beauty of impermanence, cherishing the
ephemeral bliss before the rising sun
dissipated our shared moment in the
gentle embrace of the day.

A shadow calls-
vexed by whisper
In the night;
as I hear echoes of pity.

Through blackest eyes;
seeing nothing in-
Vast openness;
and at its center,

                     A bird.

Brokenness resting
on closed wings
Prisoned to ground;
stretching hand to her

                          But;

She takes nothing-
of my helping aid
The sky;
has betrayed her;
Once she had loved

Each day passed;
I came to feed it love
By the crumbs;
each piece was strength

                          Until;

A day her-
wing could stretch
Flying highest to
tomorrow, and beyond
The black bird;
once again, became her

                       Fired Phoenix.


And so;
a light of hope
Lost in world's dark;
once again found her

                               Spark.

Tears of a bleeding knife; spoken promises from silent lips;
The language of one swaying a conversation- like their hips

I have been a victim of defeat, while snuffing up my tears;
Alongside the skeletons parading around in my closet
As a bone to pick with love, while picking up roses
Traveling through the thick of things as two lovers
Both stealing hearts- and being thick as thieves

As a moon spotlights over misery- wretchedness still,
Still under the sun we must celebrate in amnesia
Of what has passed- our past fades in time;
As its ticking clock of regret, is no longer mine

A breeze of promise echoes- searching for change
The very chances that elude the sage geckos
As we march towards another battle ground
I smile as a promise of fighting for better
Neither as a man who wears a frown

             I look above for hope’s song

I knew it was late for me when a girl asked me to do
something romantic for her, and I suggested we play
checkers - and if she beat me, I'd know she made
the draft.🤭🤭🤣🤣🤣

Quick to fold into myself — these are the cards I’m keen to hold.
I’m playing the game of life, love, and growing old.

“Here are your cards, son.” But no one taught you how to play.
No rulebook, no dealer’s grace — just silence and a seat at the table.
So it’s up to you to figure it out, Kassan — learning to deal with
regret while life deals you more hands of hardship to accept.

Go on — place your bet. Will you find success? Will you chase the
dream? Will you even get a shot at love when every reason still
shoots you down? And would you risk it — even after every loss
you can count, forgetting how many wins you once held close?

You deal with the hand you’re given. But even the purest heart holds
the dirtiest intentions — so by extension, you might be playing
with a ***** hand. Still, we all play into this game we call life. It’s a
poker bet, a Crazy Eight, where you don’t even get to declare.
So you study the faces life deals you and wear a poker face to keep
your tells in check.

Don’t count your gains too early. Take them home to count —
slowly, privately. Don’t get robbed by the table just for showing
what you’ve earned. And the casino only closes when you leave.
The lights stay loud and lovely from across the street, but there
are no clocks inside. So you better watch your step.

Because despite how it looks, this life smiles, knowing **** well
it’s not a friendly game.

Emptiness—
filled in the the echoes of loved ones prayers in this void

First a handshake with Death;
a firm grip of arm wrestling between her and Life

A tightening chest, running a marathon of a racing heart
Twas I, chasing after a lost final breath

And drawing a line in the sands of time;
a flatline, revive, and a second try
                
                     "How it feels to die"

Tumbling walls whispering tears —
the sound of fallen walls in the rain,
closing remarks to the echoes of pain.

Tossed red dust's disappearing pieces —
still what we've built for ourselves -
are all these foundations to remain.

I wish this sooner on my life, to have been taught
how to talk to girls...
how to deal with things out of my control...
how to be successful with the right morals...
how to put all my pain in all of my poems...
how to appreciate my highs amongst the lows...
how to make decisions with fact, and not a suppose
how to be tickled by the beauty of life, in between my toes...

I just wish someone taught me all of these things long before

Tending to the soft, hushed whispers of the night,
I find myself drawn to you, longing to see
the reflection of your loveliness in my eyes.
It's as if you have descended straight from the
heavenly corners above, your presence captivating
me and causing my heart to race.
Just as quickly as angels fall from the sky,
we are all falling deeply in love.

The words of strangers often get lodged between our teeth,
their shallow secrets adding a touch of intrigue
to the synchronized movement of our lips.
I am reminded of the moon casting its ethereal
dance upon the clear surface of the sea, creating
a serene and enchanting landscape.
As night falls, a blanket of desires covers everything
that once was, leaving only a sense of a longing be.

Yet, despite this overwhelming love,
I find myself unable to find the space to express
your name with the depth it deserves.
It's as if any attempt to do so merely adds to the
trenches and pits – the abandoned hopes and dreams –
of those who came before me.
Your gaze, burning with intensity, consumes
us like a ferocious firestorm.
I can't help but feel a sense of jealousy towards
even the bathroom mirror, as it alone gets to witness
the intimacy of ******* you.

Poems and hymns become a whispered language that
lingers upon your ear, reminiscent of a cat's rough lick,
eager for a taste of your tears.
It's a language that speaks to my desire to
understand what it truly means to be in love.

And yet, I'm left with only reminders of what
could have been, searching for answers within
the confines of that picture.
Perhaps, if I were to expand the frame to encompass
the potential of our future family, then maybe, just maybe,
it would be enough to paint our own reality.

Darling, if only you could spell out the words correctly,
I could dive into the depths of your mind and
unravel the thoughts that occupy your every waking moment.
But alas, I remain in the position of not fully
comprehending what it truly means to be in love.
A plea escapes my lips, as I humbly ask for your guidance –
please teach me the intricacies of love,
so that I may fully grasp its essence.

Physical desires intertwine with emotional sensations;
the gentle caress of skin speaks volumes about the essence of
one’s character. Unveiling the joy nestled deep within your spirit,
playful, alluring smiles flicker in the radiance of her being.
As the weight of guilt, anger, and anxiety often shadows the one
you cherish, mingling with the mysteries that linger unspoken.
In the wake of a love that has slipped away, she dances through
fragments of her dreams, clad in well-worn socks, still striving to
find her footing. There’s a lingering fear of being tainted by another-
whether through intimacy or confusion—yet she clings to the
innocence of her youth.

A lovely woman stands at your threshold, inviting you to
embrace her; don’t hesitate to welcome her warmth, for her heart
deserves to be cherished. Public displays of affection may be mere
theatrics, but the sincerity behind your words can convey her true
value, no matter the distance between you. Take pride in calling her
yours, but remember, she is not a possession; she is a daughter
of the Divine.

Seek not your reward in her actions meant to please you,
but rather find joy in the vulnerability she shares exclusively with
you, unmasked and genuine. Honour her in such a way that even
with her eyes closed, she can still feel your presence.
Love your woman fiercely, safeguarding her as your treasured gem—
not by offering the world, but by creating a sanctuary where
both of you can thrive together

The void in your gaze will no longer
linger in your mind – we are merely silhouettes
in the daylight and the shadows of night; all our
skins woven from the fabric of midnight, and
each a unique hue of time.

I'm a dancing old machine, with rust in my veins,
the ice of my eyes, and smoke of my words
Are a constant-
interludes between ourselves, as we play in part
As I'm searching in those eyes,
to try and find a fit and figure out what is my own part,

I'm just a towel drowned in a wash,
stranded on love; left high and dry
A text unread, no reply, my battery's out, and a flightless
bird, so mighty to my disguise, of when I was put on
flight mode,

As I drew my heart, painted in all of those memories,
so cryptic to my own self- who really knows me
But just the reasons to my existence, all to the knowledge
of a creator in the skies,

An overthinker in the general sense; though generally most
of my thoughts never make any sense
To write out all of my sins in the pen between
me starting to repent,

                             I'm as human as you are too
                               so natural to the wilds of my heart-
                                              it's all part of my human nature.

Would you dare to pull the trigger-
to press against my heart with the hope that its
rhythm could stretch beyond the confines of this moment?
I am equipped, armed with nothing but a pen, crafting
vivid strokes that dance across the pavement.
I soar above the streets, claiming the heavens as I navigate
the solid paths that define my existence in this urban landscape.

Beneath the joy of the breeze-
the winds reveal the essence of true freedom, whispering
through the branches; that sensation will return once more.
The elements have no true companion or confidant in
this harsh reality, lamenting, “it’s too **** hot, it’s so
freaking cold, this rain is too much, oh God, where has
the rain gone to?”

We exist in a peculiar state of numbness,
caught in the oddity of pointing out the flaws in others
while neglecting to reflect on our own.

The days end like'
The last chord of a song-
As the final curtain falls over
The sky; covering another day
To it's eventual longer night'
An army of silence in the cricks of crickets,
The wickedness of the street calls, yelling out
"Save me, Save me, from the holes in my face"
In a city depraved of maintenance,
A year of the elect; elections around the corner'
I've come to the age to vote; a sexennial older

I a man, like the end of that song
Playing a melody of what self-care, self-motivating,
Self-discipline, and what my true self is willing sing
The key is, to be the beautiful that was tuned into your spirit

                                     ...Sing loudly myself

Our bodies will die as stone; buried beneath the earth –
We’re resting days, until the end of days is unearthed
For all our own sins have fallen from Adam’s curse
And perhaps when we fall in love,
It too is a curse…
When all the effort we give, just never works

Yet, as somebody’s child is probably crying
Would the sky truly wipe their tears –
Our skies are dying…
As the winds blow in mystery; never telling us
Where they’ll go – we hope to dream, we dream
For hope, but is hope worth your dreams dying

We are only but a strange paradise
Praying up to Heaven, for a means to survive
We love, we hope, we hate, we cry, we try
And all will die – question is, what do you choose
To do with what you have left of this life?

Get a piece of it all, how I'd sweat to have it all.
But only of taste, that my lips slowly run dry. Biting through the small pieces of flesh till I reach the bottom.

And I've run dry in my ways, the same ways that get me in so much trouble.
And in these ways I've learnt to be a little more humble.

But it's not the easiest of things when you build your dreams on foundations that will soon tumble.

But I've seem to have missed the bottom, floating still in the air.
So why doesn't someone rescue me there, Lord almighty don't curse me out while I'm likely to swear.

Get a piece of it all, everything I have doesn't feel enough.
For I can easily think of only nothing in this life.
So to say human nature is typically so tough.

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

So I got robbed
by my shadow last night;

           That's pretty dark.

I threw a steak at a girl;
that's a tender way to meet.
But I got beat with a
hole in my head;

       That's an empty thought.


And she broke my nose
so I couldn't smell;

             Her intentions.

I told her she
was pretty sweet;
and was offered a piece.

                  I bit off her lip.

And I was told;
I belong to the streets;
that's really funny because
I won't allow anyone to;

               Walk all over me.

I don't think she got
what I really meant,
So to seem concrete,
I went on to buy her a bag;

                         Of cement.

Yesterday,
I lost my cool;
writing a surprise exam
yet the test was;

              Such a breeze.

It gave me food for thought,
but I kept on complaining,
because I'm still hungry;

                  And want to eat.

And I laugh so big
at my own jokes,
because I took humour,
and added enormous;

             To make it humorous.

Some people seem more interested in looking
for someone’s attention – rather than finding
Genuine love.

As they aren't truly searching for a person to
be their person; but just a person to satisfy their
Own hungers.

Who tries to make ends meat,
but never been fed
Pray on the daily, for just for an extra slice of bread?

I want some cake,
just to know the taste.
Make a little dough, so I can bake,
Get stuck in some beef. A while
since I've had some steak.
Put your life on the line, just to see what's at stake.

Food for thought I gave, can I have some feedback,
Light on all my responses, guess I'm just a snack.
Pray for me, with grace, and thanks.
To never overindulge, avoiding stomach cramps.

And a couple meals, to keep me fed.
Gain a couple pounds, earn a little bread.

My eyes are hungry.

Your eyes so sharp; hint at a piercing yellow in the air-
beyond measure beyond what we lose reasons to care for.
Therefore, you shall find me down a path to the honeyed
days, when all we try to hold on to, tilts and drifts away.
While my feelings for you left me all sun-washed and
golden, now downsizing myself, inches into days.

Forever being the promise of a storm; a cause of havoc in my
heart- we meet, we fall in, fall out of love and finally depart.
Still, I’ll remain searching for the sweetness of your yellow
nectar- the tenderness we both shared. Still steeped in your
honey comb lips; as every kiss was a promise, dripping with
sweet promises, and its amber glow.

                I… remain as the one still chasing after you
                                                   -an eternal hunter bee.

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!

A heart that crumbles with time,
Gradually fading into that familiar abyss
As my thoughts silently fade away;
Eroded by the chemistry of love- a love lost.
In a manner of desiring to express myself; it seems
Causing its own demise- words soon ignite.

And they become like embers,
Scorning a fire of anger, I kept hidden
Deep within my soul's depths.

The flames dance freely, without a care,
Like a child with matches, unaware.
I watch in silence, filled with dread,
Praying they don't consume my heart, turning it to lead.

Spoken word: the resting tongue laiden on potential thought.
I exclaimed, "I am, a poem," loudly as courage lets the heart
be bold in her voice.

She is love, but often wicked and rough.
A cup you fill of often watered down emotions. Do you focus
onto past or present experiences,—or are experienced in growing
a worthwhile future? I attest to myself of a testimonial; in these
dreams I've perceived.

Do see I firstly before you see just some random guy. I am
bright,—as two suns crashing into each other; that the stars
witnessed in awe. I am spoken word, a poem of endless words.
As you see less of me, so shall I give them more.

I am, a poem.

I should know how far beautiful I am,
but also be closest to the fact.

I am beauty in the words I speak,
I am beauty amongst beautiful people I meet,
I am beauty as the first to choose peace,
I am beauty to smile brighter when I'm weak,
I am beauty for it all resides in me,

I am beauty as a people of my land,
I am beauty as the many of ocean sands,
I am beauty for being proud of who I am,
I am beauty in the can't that I choose to can,

I am beauty of the moments I make,
I am beauty in the creations I shape,
I am beauty as I sleep and wake,
I am beauty for the many mercies and sake,
I am beauty because I see myself as great,

I am truly beautiful.

From the ***** where a child is fed – the essence of their identity
woven by what a father has said; I carry the faith of my mother,
often shadowed by my father's scepticism. I find myself gazing into
the reflective gaze of a taxi driver, contemplating the tapestry of my
past—insecurities gnawing at my resolve as clasped hands rest in the
back seat. I catch fleeting glimpses of my youthful, innocent laughter
—frozen in time, a testament to pure love captured in a photograph;
a reminder of the paths we trod in pursuit of our dreams.

My creator had named me a rare and radiant pearl, a pearl growing
in the oyster womb of a mother — His love mirrored in that precious
gem as I navigate a crowded life, where strangers step on your toes.

Upon my shoulders, the weight of the world is not meant to rest—
where attempts to quench my thirst yield only the bitterness of ash.
Yet, the fire of my aspirations flickers brightly in my gaze—do I dare
to pursue love with courage?

Indeed, that spark ignites into a flame, and that flame transforms
into an all-consuming love— His love, an all-consuming love.

                                                        ­I am loved.

I “borrowed,”
a customer’s purple shirt
“okay, I stole that shirt”

It looked too good,
with an ironic phrase in white words

“dreams do come true”

Do I feel guilty
about “borrowing,” that purple shirt

“I don’t really know”

But I’ll let you know
later on tomorrow, as I’ve hung it out
with an outfit, ready to go to church.

I am the soil that farmer refused, flung into the vast
expanse, crushed beneath the weight of restless hooves.
I am the spark that could have ignited a revolution—
if only the shadows of doubt had not stifled my youth.
I am the visionary wielding my pen like a *****, and
unearthing these many buried truths.

I am the sky weeping a thousand tears swelling
these clouds; and overcasting my perfect smile –
I am the battalion feeding the fury of mankind,
standing resolute on the peaks of man’s greatest trials

I am the wandering cab driver, burdened by the weight
of unfulfilled dreams, seeking in the silence of his
backseat the warmth of true companionship
I am the mirrored gaze of a suffering companion, reflecting
their anguish- as I too bear the scars aboard the same ship

I am not the arbiter nor the prosecutor;
I am not less divided as man, or feel any more equal —
I am the contradiction, the enigma; I am the visage
that conceals the essence of the people...

I am the People!

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

Social hang off
—hanging picture, capture
a moment forgot by morning's morrow
and the hopes of more time we'd hope
to borrow. A head hollow, is it not the
truth so hard to swallow, so is pride
an empty space inside, a pretty shadow's
smile

Surely you've searched yourself enough
to know the true self you need to find!

Who am I,
But the meaningless purpose, set out
To echoes of their tears— dancing their fires
upon each tongue. Am I wrong wanting not,
to be as equal to parentages?

What does it mean to be free; to be not
Set to be, or set free in a world, only not to be
Anything it recognizes— for the freer person in
this world, are only but the dead. So must I,
sacrifice my life, to then feel alive?

My time each day, is all amalgamation of
Escapeless breath. Oh, isn’t it such a waste to
Be young; for the subtle interest of being ill trained
By the perception of the Owed?

For our youth is truly a debt to those
who train us to be better—
But it’s a lesson not meant to be free,
for when you meet their age, you like them,
feel something is owed.

“Oh, where is the time, I had invested in you,
The wisdom and guidance my
hand laid upon your head?
For from the full of my flesh, I raised you up,
From being a fool. I had decided your
purpose from what I had seen fit,”

Enough then said; to ask of you again,
who am I, who am I then?

"Empty plates
loads of food for thought"
~said the overthinker
"Empty pockets
of a penny for a thought"
~now isn't that rich to the poor

"Empty trees
killing two birds with a stone"
~so said myself with terrible aim
"Empty marathon
I should cut to the chase"
~apologies for the blunt knife

"Empty battleground
always up in arms"
~a man of war only knows a gun
"Empty ears
we're left out in the cold
~no intention to hear my pain

"Empty flame
how to avoid burning bridges
~a man with enlightened wisdom
"Empty dreams
then after I hit the sack
~kept all of my dreams in a bag

                               ....Goodnight

living to defend an idiot always
makes them less of an idiot
and for you to become the idiot
in all ways

to love one who only loves
the idea of being in love
is as good as both being unloved

            ....idiots defence, and fools to love

Now is the time my mind tends to think of danger,
When all my hopes and dreams just happen to be strangers.
And all my words have gone to empty prayers.


Along with the fighting of idle voices inside my head,
these many demons that wish me dead.
That creep inside my dreams beside my bed,
that take my sweet dreams and give me nightmares instead.


Now is the time my mind fears danger,
when minor hurts seem to hurt me major.
That slit my throat with a black rusty razor.

And along came these voices trying to steal my smile,
And ten thousand miles my mind walked along the length of the River Nile,
and told my concerning heart of it's denial.


Oh, but I'll close my ears,
to escape my fears, as I wipe my tears.
Oh, but I will stand, though my courage is not so grand.
And upon my hand I'll hold onto the light, though my palm seems bland.

Oh, these idle voices will fear danger,
I'll make them strangers.
Oh, they'll know my name, feel the pain of my shame.
For my heart seems wild, but it can't be tamed.
And at the end of this battle, I'll be saved.


Cause now is the time my heart will rest,
when I take to bed, though I seem depressed.
I'll hide my pride, dig down that chest.
Cause I don't want these idle voices, to steal my rest.

subtly, subtly does the depression
rip me apart- a part of me
burning, it's all concerning and
undeserving—unnerving under my skin
i wish I could be a different person.

Who am l, who am I?

I....am the representation of all depression
in the darkest thoughts, all chasing- not to mention
The deception of what is my self-esteem,
a passive aggressive; less than the self taught lessons
a dog chasing it's tail, in a ball of tears my eyes are
always fetching.

I am depression: a random whisper of sadness
this is my depression who robs my gladness
A quiet madness, maddening villain; a saddening
million dark thoughts- non making sense but just bad dealing
I choke myself on awkward feelings, cutting myself
with the sharp thoughts of over thinking

I am depression: who makes you feel like everyone
else is in their well order. "You don't have much time to
make something of yourself, you’re getting much older"
Pour me tears of cringy replays, poor me could have
done better. People who pierce you, asking aren't
you supposed to be clever

I am depression: making you question everything
in anxiety's language. You're in a perfect imbalance,
impasse- a dead end in your head. Cornered, cornered!

This is depression, in it's usual session, an unhealthy
obsession to beg the question: is this out of your
compression? Comprehensive over spending, a penny for
a thought-in the end to only self lessen

I pray to the Lord that this feeling doesn't follow,
and if so, I don't want tomorrow.

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.

Old days be but gone. Surely what have I done to be a new.
Time in but a day feels so short but my desires of this last not so few.

If be this when I go shall I taste the last of my Love's lips
Perhaps get a taste of the brown bottle in a couple sips.

But really should I look back to what happiness I brought to I from living such a life.
Flip through the pages of memories. Surely I fear not of such. Even to the afterlife.

For the conclusion to such a story be ready to meet it's end
As sometimes as most I fear one day I may not wake from bed.

But be not this to bring an upside-down man even more down
For all such chaos find calm and serious amgonst all. Don't paint a face to play to a clown.

Don't try to do what could of been down before only for now. For what shall it be a shame.
Till end of Day will soon be to come. Do all of you as such only in the Holiness and Grace of He his Name.

Tell me, when we kiss
is the feeling absolute –under
the vibrations of our skins;

Do tongues absolutely say
their words together, in a
perfect melody?

Are these the vibes, in our dreams –
where we hope to catch the
made-up songs, were singing
in our heads?

We’ll probably only know when
we’re truly in love, I guess!

I always try to build myself
as a commission
Seeking favourable outcomes,
that's optimism
Barely gave a breath to those against me,
because I didn't see the competition.

I climb my mountains daily
but won't reach my peak
Put together all my goals
so it's easier to reach
Live out a sermon
cause everyday feels almost like a preach
My whole life feels just like a feast,
Yeah!
You know everybody's gotta eat
Things at stake only at a piece,
no wonder they all be wanting beef.

I make meals out of my words,
Mmh!
So much so, my plate is always on it's thirds
Yeah! I just live out whatever I spoke,
everything that only comes from Lord
He's a Father, but mostly my coach,
in a field of life, tells me, to keep my eyes on the ball.
Find my targets,
and shooting all my goals.
Another point,
if you really keeping scores.

Yeah,
I could add up all my worth,
But a piece of me can't ever be bought,
Frame of mind is picture perfect clear,
more to me than what will actually appear.
See me blessed,
you know I'm must confess
Why?
Because I  don't know if there's always something  next.
Yes,
so I make everything my best
Yes,
Might just wear my pride a little like a vest.

I flip conversations with people like a mattress,
just an excuse to put a lot of arguments to rest.
As if time isn't good enough for me to miss,
I'll set my targets on doing something better another time,
to come back to the previous line's rhyme,— just
to prove I haven't fallen asleep, as I digress.

Still with all due respect, respect for a lot of things
seems a bit late, when all the clocks are put to death;
while we're all killing most of the time. But I should
bag a couple more seconds, to add to the restlessness
under the bags of my eyes.
....I'm always so less inspired, when I actually have
something sensible to write,— To then choose to write
more when I'm round the corner of Writer's block,
breaking down every block of thoughts in my Tetris mind.

But seriously, what was the point of this in the first
place anyways,— right about some random mattress.
A mattress sort of represents me trying to stay soft with
my words, but being firm with their initial cause.
And somewhere in between this prose, I'm supposed to
quote how you shouldn't be sleeping on my words.
That's easy an cliche, a cliche to me, of waking up to an
ugly day from a long beauty rest. Sorry I meant to say
ironic; and it's sort of comic.  Not the one that makes
you laugh, but the material magazine you flip over
like the start of my random mattress.

And just like that, how I start most of the things in my life,
is how it ends, and starts again. So I guess for flips sake,
I'm back to flipping the mattress again, and again...

If only I was dream: lucid
Able to do anything, just by my thoughts
of anything I could think: endless
For what could feel like the end, could be
where I first begin; or where I fall in between: desire
Oh how beautiful would that be; to be a lucid endless desire

                     ...if only.