Styrofoam around my heart; a cardboard box around it,
To pack away memories of love. Crustacean lips, for every after
Taste of kissing; once of fishing for the one- that illusive catch
Still with the selfish desire to claim someone as my own, alone-
A greed like cigarettes staining fingers; crying only to myself
But never counting those tears in the broken mirror, of a bathroom

As this hubris of a man, is quite humorous;- truly starved of direction;
Yielded in such a dishonest method. A chance of, “shooting your shot,”
A posing act of perhaps creating your own weapon to **** yourself
Parlour tricks, for the conformality of society- a human preference
At this point. These unspoken rules, carefully set down: find someone,
Get married, do your purpose to multiply, work diligently to maintain
Appearance/experience memories together; as from finding love as
One being single, to leave those you loved mournfully single;
As only those set apart, ironically get to die together. Oh, how
Wonderful would such a pension to love be- but not often given freely.

Procreate all of our conversations;  
to produce life in their endless longing words.

You, my beloved, hold a coveted title; as every time I speak
of you, my words are filled with a true and unyielding love,
that resounds ecstatically throughout any room.

For every conclusion of my speech, should leave
no doubt in your mind. Knowing without any hesitation
or reservation, that I love you – wholly, completely,
and unconditionally.

Ah lover,
as the sun hides it’s face behind a mountain,
the moon never rests in the day; keeping the sun company –
Your company is the warmth of covering my face in the valley
of your *****; the slow beats of your heart, rest my ear at night.

Ah lover,
upon your image is this brush against the canvas,
as the artist is swept by your smile, longing to paint out
The edges of its curve – where you inner joy is warm as the
nest filled with eggs, that are protected by their mother bird.

Ah lover,
I’ve been nestled by your comforting words to no end
you are the very creative moment of inspiration to come;
but what you do isn’t a play, but you could script a good scene –
As life is art; it’s an art to love, painted to remain, ah lover, my pen.

Surely I’d ask; that do the stars not play witness to a love’s beauty:
the belief in  the power of love that runs deep, like the air
we rely on to survive.

It feels like a faith in the unseen forces that sustain us; we have faith in our connections— a testament to the unwavering trust we have, even when faced with the unknown.

Oh, how each passing day can either divide or bring us much closer; seemingly creating a somewhat perfect balance between us—  two halves of a whole, each complementing the other in the ways no else can.

Seems to be a task; navigating through the seasons of every new found relationship; the weight of both parties’ mistakes, all serves as a reminder of the lessons we’ve learnt. Or rather the reminder of our human side. For our present self in thought, faces the future with sometimes a renewed sense of hope, and a determination to cherish and protect that we’ve now built.  

Brick by brick; I lay the depth of my soul, as I yearn for that deeper understanding of the purpose behind any love. — Searching for meaning and clarity, so too, seeking for guidance from a higher power.

Still, I must quarrel with myself.

For the seconds you’d spend with a lover, are as fleeting as a shooting star across the night sky; effortlessly slipping away— quietly turning into the short minutes we try to weave together in the hopes of making it the story of our lives.

Sigh, another love lived, serves as another love that will eventually leave, — and so, another chapter in the story of one’s life.

Teeth in a lace; tying up my smiles towards pleasurable faces –
I’m a bit tied for time, to be walking in someone else’s shoes.
While staring in the mirror, it feels like a person I had known
before. Waking up from a dream to the first breath after Sleep;
the cousin of Death

My tears have stained my bed, while I know all my resting fears –
and for the love you can afford, pay attention to a love mate you
meet; for we love spending more time buying into their dreams.
As I know the woman of my dreams isn’t the one I’ll find so
easily in all my sweetest dreams.

I stay awake most days, piecing together the most sensitive parts
of me – love me partly, but don’t invite me to love you more than
God – for Hell births the longest party, burning away all of those
lost souls.

As I assemble the fragments of my being; now whole—I embraced
solitude; in coupled fears. We coexist within the longing and craving
of love. We're so afraid of the possibility of never discovering it, yet
even more terrified of losing it all in a fleeting moment – we do long
to walk in other people’s shoes, of those who’ve figured how to tie
the knot; united in matrimony.

purpose: for in the many parts of me, I know somewhere there
could be a perfect version of me – if only I wasn’t losing pieces
of myself so purposely. living past due the experience of full sleep;
ten thousand butterflies in the net of my body, to form a fluttering
soul.

heavy lead filled tears to melt in the soil – when I choose to cry, I
think of the rain for my emotions to better flow, catching my breath
on love, by that breeze of excitement. winded from chasing after the
dreams of it, and running further away from prior defeats – some still
follow me.

love asks me, to fight my battle; a lover would tell me, “be my
champion,” my own strength would remind me to be a little more
patient – my eyes would sting me, for finding a reason to be blinded
again. lastly these unclean hands would pretend to have never
touched a piece of sin though in the many pieces of myself, pieces
of myself have been followers of skin.
            so stands the message, sighed as a lover

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.

Lovely out, cut my tongue with words
"I love you" in an end rolling in
the carvern of my heart caving in
But I don't want to go there
Into the night, time burns my eyes
Of how long you're out of my sight

Shooting at heaven's stars,
An angel fell for me

But if you expect me not be crazy in love
You haven't questioned my sanity

These open arms are so lonely
Please won't you come to me

Life has sanctioned my heart's sanctuary
I just need your company

And if I keep on chasing stars
I might finally earn my wish
All shooting stars pierced my heart
No escape, from a lover's will

Love has been,

a peanut butter & jelly
love sandwich;

I went on to spread,

my heart & emotions
one side,
my mind & thoughts
on the other side;

And of course,

I was the one caught
in between it all.

Epilogue

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

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

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

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

I brought this on myself.

Chapter 1: The first eyes of Lust

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who brought this on who?

The sound of a feeling; "I love you"
The touch of a look; "beauty brushing my eyes"
The scent of an action;  "smelling your intentions"
And the taste of a sound; "my sweetest nothings"

Love tickles all of these senses.

Anchored down by love. As my heart may drown.
My heart a vessel, best to be careful now.
Been on this ship before, of another failed relationship.

L ovely are you, my darling~
O ver my trade of thought:
V aluable, yet vulnerable;
E specially in my eyes.

S tick closely with me through;
M iles leading up to love~
I' ll hold till the last skin' hand:
L ost in your beauty' sights;
E ntirely made of that Love Smile.

Beautiful tragedy, a travesty of love brought by
things unspoken by the lips of so many few.
A honeydew sticky to my tongue, underneath the
fun of having someone to call, “my love”

Fields of maize rustling dry leaves in the tiniest
of breeze. Reminds me of the first time love had
shook me down in my knees.
Baobab trees of a swollen heart, packing luggage in
that African trunk. Under the tree kissing during lunch,
or in all of those lessons you and I would love to bunk.

Eversharp blue pens, drawing heart pictures on my wrist.
Bathroom breaks, and scandalous friends. Making sure
the memory of you, isn’t the one thing I rinse.
I’m convinced, with all the exercise books with tiny blocks,
I’d one day be boxed in by love.

With heavy weinbrenner shoes, walking around your entire
room to make them fit. I’d walk a thousand miles
to find a place in your heart, with my charms and wit.

Cascade diary drinks, cascading shadows of your
desires milked by the many ways you’ve lived.
I felt you heavily breathe, each time we kissed,
clutching my fingers to grab onto a time,
long before the low blows of love with a closed fist.

Must be nostalgia talking into my present days
and cares. A crush sweet as orange Mazoe,
you and I once would share.

I’ll take all the time to remember those lessons from old
things, and of course an old flame of love.
Trace my fingers along the scars, and the smiles
of memories we made out together.
Despite it being out of teenage peer pressure,
I’ve grown from it, to grow into something better.

I thank the nostalgia to my love. It’s worth the look back.

A wave of tears gradually carries away the tides of night
Alongside the river that weeps in its current plight
Unheard songs play, to the dead man who loves to sing
A dead silent night, for two lovers to bury the hatchet
In the tomb of being dead asleep in their shared beds-
Waiting for what falsehoods all sweet dreams bring

As the rhyme for a kiss is hiss; the cobra that loudly speaks,
She purrs and catwalks the runway- while her love is expensive
But we pay for it all, as the clock writes out a free verse

Filling poems to the taste of love, for the apple of my eye
A taste so bitter;- with a snake inside that bit my tongue
In a sole of time, the heart breaks- as roses tend to be forgotten
And unfortunately, the apple to my love had gone rotten.

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.

/// Rewinding playback; on a favourite
      cassette tape. CD compact disc changer in
      the glove compartment. Eight track, eight
      miles away from that nostalgic memory of us
                    sort of around the time I was in love \\

Mixtape stories, as they once were,
one story about falling in love—as easily as a leaf falls
to the ground. Looking up to see how far we've come
Falling off track on a marathon of longing to be loved;
probably why I was skipping a few places in life, cos my
disc was scratched

It didn't feel so real in the moment: so fictional; all in the
fixations of an imagery room, filled with unimaginable
dreams. I dreamt about falling in love, but never dreamt
about getting this far

It felt strange, as an anxious mystery before
the next turn of the author's page
Never having the authority to control who we
fall in love with. Regardless, it did not stop me from taking
the authority to buy you flowers- my once pretty flower

"Could she smell my intentions a mile away"
Or rather smell the inexperience I have
when it all comes to love

I could say I love you easily,
but never take it well, being said back in turn
Words of affirmation, non affirmed by an affirmative
upbringing. Never my strongest love language, spoken
only in signs, growls and random sighs
Quickly avoiding a long hug, and saying just a hie

///Hello, opening conversation to an open topic
     in the air. Same place where we all catch a love sickness
     Knees of course in their weakness—mostly blushing
     over each other's sweetness. The tape's signature brown
     memories got tackled up in my heart's radio. Untangled
     now from you—I can't play you anymore to remember it all
                  guessing now it's finally the end of these love tapes \\

      ...but I still love you, for the record

drinking hot coffee in summer
ice cream for the winter
hot spices on a mild tongue

cold showers in the morning
challenge to how I'm writing
drowning depth in my deep thoughts

reasons to explain the dream
opposition to say I'll never make it

it's a subtle pain,
to inspire me to push through it

Let our memories be as gravestones;
we’d have traded in marriage certificates
for graduation certificates- place on top love and roses
Roses and tears, have gained the sweetest refrain
oh darling, forever entwined shall we always remain

Pleasingly chiselled marble slabs
every piece of our love story lettered in gold
Death makes us shrouded sleepers; beings barely
warmer than the essence of life and truest love
Love is to sacrifice self, with no intention of gain
the love ballet it is; dancing as heads of concrete bodies
I’ll lead ahead, the way into Heaven if I must go first,
as you always mattered more in the first place
Dead beneath all of our loved ones, still in an afterlife
we will live to fall in love again…

Love is a
four letter word-
As so is time.

As the love-
you have for one;
Is time you spend.

The time in love
as what to give-
Also a four letter word.

Spend the time
you give to one-
To the fullest,
as to show true love.

Look at me so devine;
with the two stars-
  you stole from the Heavens.
As when you cry;
so must the entire universe too.

Of all the years I have;
you make an eternity feel like-
      just a walk.
Of all the crossroads in my mind;
  you're the only running thought.

A butcher of the sky;
that carved beauty into my eyes.
A sweet whisper of love;
that simple words melt my heart.
A really swollen memory;
of all their joys ready to burst.
An oath of courage;
that my lips shake at the first verse.

How so, and how true;
   love does so much to us.
How joyous and how true;
  do I write this verse to...no-one.

No-one it seems;
is so deserving of this love verse.

Love's ugliness to the roses of sweet,
Claiming you as an only need,
A beast to sweet nothings; it has to feast,
I sprained my ankles; at the too many times love
swept me off my feet.

Violets painted in a colour of violence,
Stealing a heart; by a bandit's right handed
silence,

Patience my love; all of your ends are priceless,
Driving myself into you without the licence,
But there's so many types of love like this.

Love's closed fist; is a punch to a pretty face,
An open hand to follow, but with a chase,
An unruly intention, disguised in grace,
Criticism of another, at times under praise,
A good feeling at times, but at times the good
wants to misbehave.

Still...

It's of beauty; behind a world's cruelty,
Wishing you all the best. Well usually,
Continually chasing a love to fool me,
A nut of sorts; love would ***** me.

Longing for love; when you've felt unloved,
Longing for feelings; never been touched,
Longing for hands; the last been clutched,
Longing for speed; hoping to get that rush,
Darling I must love you too much.

Love sticking to my side,
it's a sidekick,
I could hear all of your thoughts,
maybe I'm just physic,
Just loving the quiet moments on the bed;
music in the back, and a mix of playlists. I
know you'll definitely like it.

Like how; were not talking; but
listening to each other's thoughts.
Resting heads; in our company of vacations,
who needs the resorts?
Getting lost with my words; when I found you,
red cheeks; long texts at night, falling asleep
online. Till the messages both turn blue.
Calvin Harris fans; both screaming, "I feel so
close to you"

We're both on the moon; reflecting on
our bright moments of life. Getting stuck in between
time, kissing you in the afternoons. In between
working hours; having you for lunch. My bosses
are out; so I'm pressed for pressing my luck.
Take your time to strut;
you still don't have to do too much.

Just let me enjoy you; enjoying being you.

You can hear the violence in the silence
Even when the rain washes your tears –
  some pain still reigns; man sailing thru

These clouds, and their tears galore; wouldn’t
You know every tomorrow comes too late –
  exorcisms to clear those who’ve ghosted you

The past hangs on an arm’s annexation
Holding the reigns of your mind’s territory –
  we wake as soldiers, ready to fight today

Winning small battles means nothing to war  
A world of peace could exist, en route to God –
   we could go as far, by how long we pray

I could have seen you yesterday,
Recalling a lover’s patch of kisses –
signing that love pact. War over love,
though when is love enough
for all wars to be done?

A world of peace could exist,
but it would mean we all don’t exist.

Shoot a shot;-
jumping a gun, for the bullets
to be bouncing in and out of a heart.
Alas, another crime, another scar,
and another broken heart.

Instead…

Give her all of your attention
don’t mask over intentions,
Quickly solve all tensions-
love her as an instrument; a song of love,
And be her instrument of protection-
her caring, compassionate, and loving weapon.

A lullaby for my waking heart, someone sing it well.
Many mornings will come and go, yet for today's day I don't feel the same. Couldn't you tell.

Sing a lullaby for what this heart would take as it's favourite song,
Sweet voices to be sweeten in my ear, I'll find my lips to sing along.
As so my words could never paint the full picture but leaves a lasting outline.
Time should tell if it's been counting the days to add worth to my life by the quarter to a dime.

Still sing a song of smooth, sweet whispers to calm such unending nerves,
Lullaby of tender whispers all through a night of craze. To ride upon on Ocean's waves and curves.

O' I've burst a bubble for being lost in a moment. My heart could be dripping everywhere.
So be a voice to mix me back to one. Sing till you sing no more, if you dare.

Lullaby, O' Lullaby, sing loudly to bleed out my ears.
Please a voice of sweet and reason, calm a heart and wipe it's tears.

Suffocating beneath a tidal wave of feelings —
struggling to stay afloat, gasping for breath.

My lungs are heavy filled with so much water;
I may swallow my pride — but I can't hold
these tears anymore in my chest.

Counting all of the steps of the mountain toe
-preserving the flavours of her lips like fine gold;
Give me some time to find the right words, picking
them out for your ears performance, as if looking
through morning flowers- for a rose

The taste of her skin is clay for moulding; those
decorative smiles to hang onto the time two lovers,
can share of the night- her innocence that’s in high
regards; soaring with the doves

Luv, I hope all of my words are loved, as I watch
all of the beauty created from your hands; your
very candid spirit is endowed in your very oxygen, for
every kiss of ours is a place we are both bound to one
another… lips are the bend of history, tongues dampen
the past, as the breaths are all unto generations

Adios— and kudos to those we wished to have known better;
those we could have cherished more deeply than the first
lovers who introduced us to the art of Love.

Fit me in your glove of memories, holding onto the finest
moments of your past— walk me along the winding journey of
your heart. That road, with its unexpected twists and steep climbs,
that even the purest of all love encounters, has its share of bumps
and hiccups. Hic— all those hickeys you tried to conceal beneath
a high collar, were mere whispers of affection hidden from prying
eyes. Yet, I never felt the need to mask my own; it was as if I was
denying a piece of the love I always held onto- for a period.

In the flavour of unspoken words—we rarely conversed
face-to-face; instead, we lost ourselves in endless texts and phone
calls. Reflecting on that frustrates me, for I could pour my heart
into a fleeting love poem, while the words I longed to share in
person danced just out of reach, trapped by my mouths writer's block.

The hopeless romantic hopes for love just as fiercely, but it
feels hopeless as those who feign strength right after their
hearts have been broken. Its so easy to lie to yourself.

Lifestyles of the rich and famous,
Not a million, but it still feels like I made it.

Chasing dreams, man it feels like I'm the greatest,
Been racing time, but I still know how to pace it.

Seen some pretty girls in my review mirror, **** still wish I could chase it,
But to be honest, if I chased them all, I would just lose my breath with all of them sitting on my lap, but still really hate it.

And I'll be honest, she had a body with more waves than the ocean.
And I'll admit, my second brain had me thinking about how I could ride every motion.

And yes I might of tried to sip this potion.
But the real truth is I'm too scared to die so young, so best to avoid it all with caution.

Still, lifestyles of the rich and famous,
Time flies, but **** it, still feels good that I made it.

All children gather round in a circle;
While in their teens in the middle-
go on playing spin the bottle.

As adults figuring out a purpose;
Life is a colour of passions-
we all could be a colour purple.

Under the shade of a plum tree;
As days are like purple leaves-
praying not to be lost in the winds.

All children gather round in a circle;
While in their teens in the middle-
go on playing spin the bottle.

As adults figuring out a purpose;
Life is a colour of passions-
we all could be a colour purple.

Under the shade of a plum tree;
As days are like purple leaves-
praying not to be lost in the winds.

Someone once told me;

"it's so magical to fall in love,"
And that they could never spell the words.
But love is also made up of a few tricks.
A disappearing act, when those lovey dovey
feelings don't last.

A play of hand, to lose touch of yourself,
A flip of the card asking,

"was this your love all along"
And with a flash of my wand; let's pretend all
those arguments are gone.

"Who cares whether you were right, and I
was wrong," pulling out the bunny out of the hat;
to play innocent.

Tell me where did it even come from?

But I don't hate love, just it's many magicians.
Painting a bad picture of love, to a blind eye.
The crowd awes and cheers, not noticing
what's truly behind. But I've seen behind the trick;
of love's bad side.

Still love is magical, I suppose to those
who can't see further, but just the dot on
the tip of their nose. But who really knows;
until you've been exposed to the feeling.
Where often morals go, and no remorse flows.

I guess that's what makes love so magical?

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

You’ll regret crying in my hands—
  but only because
  you’ll miss the way they held you.
Your tears slip between my fingers
like quiet reminders
  of how far you’ve run
  from the person you used to be.
And still—
I know you remember your feet
each time they find their way
  back to my door.
    Instinct.
      Muscle memory.
        Need.

You come back bare,
and I wear you like a crown—
delicate, dangerous,
  balanced at the top of my thoughts.
You are the ache I prioritize.
  The storm I drink from.
    The wound I keep pressing,
      just to feel something again.

While my friends fold hands
in prayer to Jehovah,
I’m just praying
my depression doesn’t **** me over.
Sometimes I’d rather believe in your skin
  than in heaven—
and sometimes,
  I think your mouth is the closest
  thing I’ll ever get to salvation.
So we drink.
  We touch.
Not because it heals anything—
  but because it delays
       the end.

Darling,
we drink so this love doesn’t burn out.
We drink
  instead of breaking up.
And when your mascara smudges
  under my kiss,
when your sighs leave trails
  from your stained makeup,
I taste the salt of your sadness—
hidden beneath powdered cheeks
  and perfectly drawn lips.
We kiss
  beneath mood lighting
    and half-lies.
We are mature enough to drink,
  and broken enough to
    make up
      in every way
      the word
        dares to mean.

Pictures with strangers, perhaps with the fame

I haven’t been the same; unrecognizable even with
all these fans screaming my name

There’s always a price to entertain

I entered into a much louder desperation out of my
old depression's gate. But still lying about feeling great

Still I’m among all of the greats; those who've tasted fame

Anyways, one lick of it made me sick— thick legs always
any easy pick, but I never thought I’d call someone a *****

It’s quite rich, like I am; still with his poor tastes

All these make-ups on a face; making up for your pain
make up ***, made up ideas from sexting texts

It felt a given, it would all take away my innocence

Feeling caught always in the thrill of them cheering my
brilliance; masking how it kills my feelings

To now feeling more worried about my appealing

“How’s my appearance,” factoring those experiences
would they still take me less than serious

Sort of shook hands with the president

Still preferred the picture; not being in a picture with him,
looking like I live on his immoral morals like a resident

Paranoid paradise: so relaxed on being anxious

The camera flashes always judge my actions,
calling me old fashioned. Not fashioned in those factions

Overthinking what to put under my caption

Capture a moment, but the camera lens is the only forever
lasting smile; soon I’ll be turning into Mr Passive

Still I had a passion, beforehand

Fame served me a lot to handle in a forehand, nobody
understands the grip of fame in Hollywood’s tight hand

Serving you free chicken

*******, and thighs— Bets and thongs, a high supply
of different women. Swallowing their pride and your children

A million dollar tub, but still feeling filthy

“Oh really, you think you can have your soul back,”
the devil now outside, once only one within me

I made a deal to die at fifty

Knowing the fame won’t last me that long, feeding myself
to an empty richness. So **** greedy!

But hey, I guess I made it

What would have been the chances; still if only I had
waited a little longer for God’s right answers.

But hey mama, I’m famous...

The hardships of a man are his silent battles –
“you ought to open up more,” which opens
his worth to being diminished.

We only cry when the world is asleep, painting
smiles on our faces to render our outer walls
somewhat pleasing to your gaze.  

We fight private wars, striving to shield those
we love from the fallout – yet the scars we bear
are somehow unsightly in your view.

We’ll conform to your contradictions, offering
our utmost to project an image of strength for
the women, while our brothers are the only ones  
who truly understand our weaknesses.  

The hardships of a man are his silent battles –
and it is only his fellow men who can truly
witness their tears.

This man, this earthly man, a secret dancer in the night,
Behind these closed doors and shut eyes, is breathless with all his fright.
I'm a thief in the night but a hero keeping a close eye to himself,
Fearing what  his own difference could bring him, I'm still praying to God for a little more wealth.

And I cry so much even though my eyes are as dry as desert sands,
I laughed so much till my eyes could burst out and fall into my two earthly hands.
And I fell in love so much so that it becomes a constant dream,
I asked for so much in my head and hope all these prayers reach up to him.
I try not to hate but I hate that idea,
I try not to lie but I'm lying to myself right now, my greatest fear.
I think of a distant future but want to live in a distant forever past,
I build castles in my head with golden bricks, hoping that they will forever last.

And I watched all the other kids  dancing in circles while we were sitting in squares,
The boys were kissing all the girls while we were fixing up all our lustful stares .
The girls we loved were loving somebody else,
The men were growing backwards and we were grooming ourselves.

And I  lost the time a couple of times like all other men,
I fell prey to my own flesh till it grew bitter and plain.
I ***** that girl in my head without laying a finger, but undressed her in my head,
I told that demon I wouldn't let him in but I opened the back door instead.

So my father would forgive me for a lot of things I've done, the things I've said,
I would need a comforting hand, I would need a heavenly best friend.
Because I'm a earthly man with this flesh so weak and cold,
A mortal man growing to be so very old.

Take me to heaven right now,
Take me far away from here,on my knees I bow.

This prayer from a sinful man amongst all the other sinning men,
Angel take my prayer up to him, in his mighty name I pray, Amen.

Oceans and tides; oh to see the lines of time

A clear glass from the inside; sands to the days of our lives

It pushes and pulls, washed in a before and after
children alongside running under the sun—a teared laughter

We are young and wild as the sea;
a moment we feel alive, and free —seasonal highs and lows
time is young and moves slow. But it will eventually grow

Hurricanes, and cyclones on the wayside, I see destructive eyes

A man is wicked by his pride; to prize what some despise
never to admit fault to it's mind. Oh never mind!

...his land is home, a poem
unheard clearly in the distance of ocean birds
Would you prefer us as lakes, but it's late to see
every man is deeply drowning in their own seas

Is he free, or swims endlessly
till they can't swim no more
            oh who really knows

When a little boy cries, we hold him and tell him,
“it’s okay”
But when he becomes a man, we push him away,
“hey now, don’t be ga..”

Yet you’re happy to be everything to everyone, even if it
gives the impression that it benefits you the most – bend
a bone to break yourself, to prove you belong.

But if a man breaks down being honest; be honest, he has
to prove himself – that his tears really belong to his struggles,
to fully showcase everything that is so wrong, to leave an
impression on everyone.

The darkness has counted and held most of my tears, along
with my fears that one day they’ll all be revealed.

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

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

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

A larger friendship circle: the terror of making yourself new friends,
looms larger when it feels you’re just making yourself new problems.
It’s haunting to hear others revel in tales of passion, people
boasting about making love, but never mentions on making up.

Ah, the daily charade of donning a flawless smile – the reluctant
application of makeup. And here’s the most piercing question in the
air heavy: “When was the last time you felt a gentle touch?”

The deafening silence that responds back, “Does the touch of
sadness still count?”

Fear not, dear child – you have blossomed into adulthood, you’re all
grown up, and have grown enough to know how to count. Count on
knowing things WILL one day work out. Stop yourself from counting
yourself out…

                                  A personal mantra I whisper to myself.

Lack the better skills in communication,
finding words in this hidden location.

It's beautifully who I am,
a painted picture of the shyness of this empty man.

Who looks forward to a lot of things while looking back,
and the life he left behind seems to find itself upon his map.

We're all marvellous,
shining bright diamonds.
All the stars within us,
as God has made.
Different in places,
but we'll all bleed the same.

A marvellous people,
a tad complex simple.
All a riddle,
indeed this marvellous creature.

Marvellous are we all, all are marvels to be marveled.

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"

Masterpiece of a passion painted, a lady mistress of
her fairest dame; So gentle of heart, and a love
all to wish acquainted; In the trends of oldest fashion,

Of her bright eyes of angelic fire, gliding, whereupon
two stars are dancing; Man takes hand to a leading
guide; His soul and eyes stolen— As amazement was
what he found; For by God, you are His art piece created,

Yet so disturbing to my mind, as words to express have
me so defeated; Worthy it is, speaking of you, tastes like
treasure.

My love is endless to loving plenty, for itself it does not show,
granted to love a penny. Possessions of man's ***** eyes,
Of their murderous hate— many schemes flesh has to conspire,

A change to thought, (I darest spare, lodged by Christ's
gentle love. I hope to know in the ends of prayer.)

Kind heartened I may prove, with gracious kind words,
As with wickedness stuck in mouths; as it's rotting tooth.
All that are wicked; too hide behind sweetest tongues, and
fairest smiles.

Vile, vile, vile. Oh how the world is so vile,
to us all living in denial. Greed has made them all blind.

Mistakes we make plus
the responsibility taken equals growth.
And if there's any strength from it,
are we all not at least strong.

Subtract the negativity
from positive,
Multiple it and your product is
a lot to be thankful for.
And once you divide it all,
there's a lot of happy memories,
to share with those involved.

Equal to the time of life
you have,
Is equal to the lessons we can teach.

But if we were to give it
more power,
What more would you get?