Songbird
resting in the tree
As an early winter leaf
is kidnapped by winds

The buried seed
in the dark, comes to light—all to see
Where there is shelter
under it's shade of canopy

And dancing fox's tail
entail such details of her redwood
It has filled my eyes with glee
to see something growing so free

As true strength of roots
is the patience we must have, and give
So like this morning wood,
does its growth be strong remarks as it appears

    Listen to the tree leaf by winds
    And the buried seed of canopy,
    All to see—growing free, and
    Give strong remarks as it appears

nature o so quiet and subtle,

these mountains are the only-
to hear a sound of falling trees,
all the winds are the last-
to touch skins of leaves.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

these woods of life, all it's
creatures are your children,
seed pods of their fill,
will hit the grounds and spill.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

these many butterfly kisses,
ladybug tickles, foxes all cunning,
prey all running, birds chirping,
as antlers ears alerting.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

you wear a dress to-
cover all your young,
as the mother of all.

you deserve all that you have given
—in a world that takes, takes kindness
lightly. we live in a dark world
tossing their weight of heavy sin by
the stones building their walls
oh mr kindness,

             ....you deserve so much more

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

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

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

Hi...✋

seem to forget all the places I’ve gone, still remember
all those I’ve loved – while our dreams still attract my
imagination; dressed in your night gown.

the breath of a lover’s skin still tingles even after she’s gone;
yet it would be the older version of me, teaching the young –
that even the ones with a bag of ***, still carry their baggage;
that even with a bag of tricks by your side, a better man will
make your best love, seem so average.

trading paint over our skins; just to paint a picture of a future;
a man finds joy in knowing he’s the present suitor – though if he
can’t dress the part of her life, please don’t shed tears when she
finds one that suits her.

but maybe I wrote this for all the losers – perhaps, “you sir”

so said the man looking at himself in that mirror. third wheeling
their love as a chauffeur. he once took the financial risk of finding
love. an entrepreneur – yes, “you sir”

           didn't plan to lose her, but hey there, Mr Loser.

Line marks on a face
probably their first good rest
Their events of yesterday;
she'd undress to address a situation
While he's given the address to her favourable location

"Where's the shame in a little pain,"
she had casually asked him
He seemed a little passive before his passion
"I prefer asking for consent," he told her, as he's old fashioned

"But I could imagine things I could do,
things I could never speak of; let alone speak to you
Not be rude— I'm sort of new to showing my other side
a beast inside, and my *** drive runs along a journey of being wild"

And just like a hoodie after ***,
she's worn out, anxious at the start, but now out of breath
"There's no need to pretend, in like those Nikes; I already checked
that you'd step out of your comfort zone, and just do it
At first I was a bit clueless; but that first hit was the first hint

...And if you ever feel shy to be yourself in public,
just show me yourself in secret
Your identity doesn't need to belong to the world,
you belong to me— your Mrs!

This will start off as a less than serious write; but by its end,
it will come all right.

Bullet penetrating stares —observing everything just to leave the
world with another bullet hole. A tongue like a dagger slicing
through every word of speech; those in charge desperately trying to
keep control. You caught me off guard without my bulletproof vest-
my chest, covers over my heart with a ****** to protect my love.

I settled my debts in the rear of a fleeting romance – a partner I
needed to catch like a taxi on the street; though our paths rarely
matched – I had to read the steps to her heart as if it were a well
detailed and laid out map.

I walked by, bidding goodbye countless times – but I never truly
grasped this kind of love, I never had my hand in it; yet I played my
role by waving you hie. However, I must have misinterpreted what
you saw in me, mistaking it for a feeling that soared a bit too high.
Yet, it wouldn’t keep us grounded, we could be birds for the night;
unless you have a touch of fear when it comes to heights.

Just co-pilot for this flight – I’ll soar above your challenges, offering
guidance with my perspective’s oversight. Savour the flavour of love,
but don’t indulge too soon; you wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite
for the main course – save yourself an overbite. Misaligned; life may
start off a bit askew, but ultimately, we all seek that perfect match, to
find the right fit of being in love, with our Mr. or Mrs. Right.

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

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

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

Aren’t you already there?

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

Question...

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

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

The poorest man would say he's rich in heart,
The richest man would say he's poor in spirit,
The happiest man does cry in secret,
The saddest face laughs when no-one is looking,
The patient man has no rush to death,
The busiest man hasn't got the time to drop and die,
The dreamer longs to fly so high,
The insomniac buries his head in the dirt of hopes.

So what of me, in the list?

I'm the poorest when it comes to being romantic; but rich
in my words of flirt. The richest of all my written love
poems; but the poorest in having a love to share them with.

I'm the happiest man when I cry myself to sleep in secret; and truly at my saddest when their eyes are no longer looking at me.

I'm patient on my morals, that keep me separate from death;
but at my stress, I rush into the thoughts of just dropping dead.

And I could dream a thousand times of wanting to fly; though
the insomnia of my creativity, is buried in deep thought.

All that you'd expect me to love, I'd surely hate. And so
I'm unknown to the actual truth of many peers. Who would know me by name, but never my real title.

I am Mr Untitled.

In the midst of shimmering, pendant tears that fell gracefully
like a soothing, cooling summer rain, bringing with them
a sense of calm and renewal, I couldn't help but reminisce about
our carefree days of youth.

We used to playfully refer to such rain as a "monkey's wedding,"
finding joy in the whimsical nature of the world around us.

It was during those precious moments that we formed a bond,
united by our shared sense of humor and our pursuit of wishful thinking, always hoping to find that elusive *** of gold at the end of the rainbow.
We believed that if we could stumble upon such a treasure,
it would grant us the luxury of time, allowing us to forget the struggles and challenges we faced in our everyday lives.
In our innocence, we placed our trust in the wisdom that only
a youth can muster up in their playful explorations.

As I reflect on those days, I can still vividly picture the magnificent mud castles we built, standing tall and proud, mirroring the immense joy and satisfaction we derived from our imaginative endeavors.
They were like immortal empires, resilient against the test of time,
but only if we nourished them with our ever-fertile imaginations.

Like tender saplings in need of water, our castles depended on
the constant flow of our dreams to survive and thrive.

And just as the sun warms the earth and gently dries up the
morning dew, I hope that if I ever find myself receding and
drying up, it is only in the context of my grand finale.
There is still so much left for me to accomplish, so many dreams
to chase and conquer.

In the hearts of those who embrace their inner child, there is a
constant beating, a fervent longing to return to that imaginative
state and be transported to a world that knows no bounds.
It is a nation within the mind, regardless of its size or its capacity
to hold the dreams and aspirations of its inhabitants.

And at the end of his life,
he whispered with a tear:

Dear God,

I hope you're listening this time

                  it's time for me to die.

To touch base, I've mixed with bass,
treble; or tremble at the highest volume,
audiotapes left in the closet, those love
confessions in secret; titled into a mixtape,
Or was it a mistake to place myself in the
music I tried to write?

The lyrics are just me ranting away,
in the thinking of finding a way.
I feel a little blue today; in a jazz of a saxophone,
ordering snacks on my phone. It feels too easy to
rhyme. To play with my words. CD discs,
I was scratched by love; in the ignorance of bliss.

Sad playlists saved in good question,
earphones stuck in my ears while I'm still asleep.
Good reason for me to seem so restless,
bluetooth speaker; hoping to successfully connect.
Still pairing to an unpaired match I could bet.

But music is always emotion, just in beat,
catchy hooks, melodies, and shuffling your feet.
To get you off your feet, get you to think, and as
my dad would say, "your favourite songs gets your *** lit"

I can't function without my music.

Communication of commotion;
       bumping heads of opinions- so many worlds
in your eyes I see; stuck at a perception like a

Love at first sight; losing time in your hair,
       losing lips that speak love, by the heap of flesh
around your rib; a watchful gaze, as your
       perfect eye stalker:
Ripping pieces of your sky away
                   as a skyscraper
· · · · · ·kissing, as pestering flies
swatting away any ideas of
                              maybe falling in love

Fly across oceans, a domestic star- pet names
  that would offend a dog, we’re more
******* with each other; that the territory marked
               is just a dry bark- as we bite and chew
· · · · · ·each other out. Still, I’ll be as loyal as a dog
to find a means to cheer you up; crossbreeding
love and quiet hate, for the pedigree of us.
            
You will stay cherished, as my first love

I'll ravage your flesh with a ferocious hunger,
devoid of any restraint or inhibition, as I immerse myself
in the pursuit of satiating my most primal desires.
With every inhale, the intoxicating scent of your flower
captivates my senses, leaving me lusting for the delectable
sweetness that lies within. It's a flavor that seduces like a
symphony playing upon my taste buds, awakening an insatiable
craving that consumes me from within.

So, my love, settle upon my tongue and allow yourself to
indulge in the enchanting sensations that await you there.
Feel the heat of my breath mingling with your essence, teasing
and coaxing, guiding you towards the pinnacle of pleasure.
As the strands of your hair intertwine with my grasp, I will
shape our movements with unwavering confidence, leading you
through the tumultuous symphony of our desire.

In my presence, the strength of our connection will resonate
through every fiber of your being.
Your legs will surrender to their trembling under the weight of
our intense union, while your heart and soul collide with a force
so powerful it leaves no doubts or hesitation in your mind.
You will know, without the shadow of a doubt, that you
belong to me and me alone.

And allow me to confess, my darling, that my words possess
a hypnotic quality that penetrates your very core.
Even before my teeth sink into the tender flesh of your neck,
my lips will grace its surface, ascending its contours like
a mountaineer seeking the highest summit.
With every touch, every caress, the walls within you will
yield gradually and willingly, testaments to the profound pleasure
I offer and the ecstasy we create together.

As our passionate encounter reaches its zenith, I want you to
revel in the knowledge that every moment has been a sensational surrender to the depths of desire.
My whispers, soft as silk against your ear, will affirm the
undeniable truth that our connection is beyond question or doubt.
It is a truth that we share, etched upon our very beings, binding
us together in an unbreakable bond.

In the end, my love, there is no room for uncertainty.
Your complete and utter enjoyment of our encounters is not
a mere fleeting possibility but an irrefutable reality that we
both embrace. In the whispers of our ecstasy, in the echoes
of our connection, the affirmation resounds loudly and clearly:

     You belong to me, my love... and forevermore,
            you shall remain mine and mine alone.

Darling, still wishing for kisses and tickles underneath the sheets of a bed of love,
Wrap your love round my hand like a tightly worn glove.
A thousand calls and a billion messages left staring in your phone,
Still traveling back to our place, just that moment of you and I, darling I'm rushing to get home.

Blank notes filled with tears of my heart and beats of a silent brain,
They would only see you and I both day and night, while other times catching beatiful raindrops in calming rain.
They would see us riding a Golden compass to find more treasures of this love of ours.
Sitting in the middle of an ocean filled with my tears of joy, that I cried for you and I, a thousand hours.

But you and I could fill an entire planet, just the two of us.
Love filling all the corners of the planets crust, counting the time to pass.

My darling it's just you and I, but I would never forget the God that brought us both to be.
So right now, we shall sleep a thousand hours to dream up all those dreams, just come closer and lay down with me.

Now...

I can't sleep; because of it.
I can't wake up happy; because of it.
I can't breathe; because of it.
I can't move; because of it.
I can't eat; because of it.
I can't live; because of it.
I can't make new friends; because of it.
I can't be alone; because of it.
I can't deal with large crowds; because of it.
I can't be me; because of it,
But I'm not defined as a person; because of it.

I'm not worthless; because of it.
I'm not weak; because of it.
I'm not a fool; because of it.
I'm not an outcast; because of it.
I'm not less of a dreamer; because of it.
I'm not the only one suffering; because of it.
My life's struggles may be the cause of it,
But I'll do so many things because of it.

I'll choose to push on; because of it.
I'll choose to smile; because of it.
I'll cry at night sometimes; because of it.
I'll constantly be inspired; because of it.
I'll craft masterpieces; because of it.
I'll comfort others in the same boat; because of it.
I'll continue to be the advocate for change; because of it.

And my depression is the cause of many things;
all the good, bad and moderate.

As all you see of me; is because of it.

All living fears have me dead in my feet,
Obscure; seems be the journey too fretful to take,
So as quickly as I start, I quickly retreat.
An outstanding trend,—a show on repeat,
On the screens of my eyes; blank as the static
dancing on your fingertips. Before doing an action,
A question of, "can I really do this"

I stutter my words before a speech in normal conversation,
I I trr-rryy not to chew on the words stuck on my tongue,
So frustrating; that the point of topic lost it's concentration.
But of course,—the confidence of pretend is louder,
Than the shyness of the wisdom I still keep silent,
Would they listen to me, as youth to old? I truly do wonder.

I'm afraid of love; of that I may not find,
I'm afraid of commitment at times,
Solely in the thoughts of fearing I won't provide,
So by the divide; two sides are of searching for love,
Or letting it be as is; whether found or not,
Perhaps as hopeful to truly believe all comes from above.

I'm afraid of time; that I do not have or waste,
Likewise having so much of it, to have nothing to do,
Perhaps as ticking over the time, my toc is out of haste.
I'm afraid of myself; moments I don't recognise him,
When I do more than I expected, or less of what I hoped,
Doing his level best, but his best is always at a whim.

I'm afraid of dreams; those I may not fulfil,
My head is filled with them, unlike the successes at hand,
Which dream comes true, seems to be by God's will.
A thrill at times, but a chasing heart out of a breathless chest,
I have many targets in life, my goal is to only stand out of the rest.

Will my fears be immortalised, to leave me traumatized,
Or will I find my bravery to survive?

Can you not hear
the murmurs of your skin tone –

Oh darling, your decimal smile,
is a testament to the value you own

Your kiss is an ode, your soul
a ballad; and your body is a poem.

How could a man articulate
your essence, if not through his words –

For these mere words fall short,
even for ones whose pride stands tall

A love letter, I find myself enveloping,
so unwilling to let go; wishing I could
have you as my girl.

Open up your eyes and let the light pierce through,
casting away the darkness that clouds your vision
like a waterfall's cascade.

Take a deep look into the depths of my eyes; there,
you will witness the aftermath of my chaotic existence.
I have been smoking and screaming with such intensity
that my lungs ache, and the worn floors beneath me have become unwitting ashtrays.

So, I implore you, pry open those sealed caskets that hold your desires and dive headfirst into the realm of indebtedness.
Some seek solace in the grace of old friendships
and ask for new favors, for I, in turn, will search for a woman with captivating eyes and a well-endowed chest,
someone whose presence allows me to maintain focus
on four things at once, even after removing my glasses.

Count the years, last I had a girlfriend –
not the same count since I last kissed a girl
but I could name the bunch I kissed (not a lot)
no grand numbers to express a body count;
though I’VE met a lot of people, but still haven’t
been around. Cried a little more this year, then what
I plan to begin with every year – tasted a drop of lust,
swallowed every piece of a tear (cut my tongue)
acted worse than my young- ****** up (a lot)

Thought of suicide more times than the reasons I had to
**** myself- did a bit of exercise for about a month
not for my health; my stomach was sticking out.
Fed myself a taste of lips, lost my tongue in the sound
of their hiss, got to hold onto someone’s hips- still never
found the appeal of calling a girl your ***** (isn’t that
an ick)

Been called out by those whose ears could never hear
a ring; tried to delete my Google when I though the search
for love was over- now I laugh instead, while using Bing.

I’ve had my full of this year, don’t expect me to be hopeful
for the next, I’ll just take it all as it is. Even if I don’t have all
that it takes, I hope I never lose what it takes to give…
my heart.

Stand with me on ten toes
a little piggy that markets a bit of love
And I know we'd kick  it better at home,
while I roast your friends every time we meet,
always having beef with them all
The don't know you truly for yourself,
quite frankly you're better off with none
Still you and I make a perfect we, we can feast like
a little piggy on sweet nothing's, when we're home alone

                    I guess we're still a bit like kids, in love.

I seen a picture of you from the sides,
and got lost in your sideview
I put my thoughts to rest, each time
we're running into that room
And I flip you over to another chapter
of your body's next page
So lets have a bit of these sides from the
ashes of past days; put it all in that ashtray....

Give me a title,
and I'll write something for you

What if my fix
has me breaking,
What if my outer demons
had me cave in,
How do I think straight
when my mind is always shaking?

Tend to be weird,
that's better me than faking.

Cause I'm just myself,
can never be someone else.
Live my worth like it's my house,
Love myself, and I'm so **** proud.

I wish I could tell you, “I love you”
just one more time— but the way our lips met,
I sought your forgiveness, not your consent. Still it
feels like an eternity since our last embrace; that gentle
warmth enveloped us, as those flushed cheeks beneath
my hand still had time to glow…
…

Let me look into those sparkling tears one final
time— cherishing the fleeting moments we shared, doesn’t
that memory feel extraordinary? Yet, when I falter, I often
convince myself it’s simply because I’m a man, but my
intentions are pure, by my arm and hand, just struggling
by the want to hold a bit too long

Open to a kiss as we speak; tasting the bittersweet
harmony of your love and sorrow in a single breath.
Yet, I wear a facade of a smile—mourning the kisses
and whispers that have slipped away on the wind, while
a trace of heartache lingers on my lips.

I found myself unable to express my emotions once
more, or perhaps I was simply repeating the
same sentiments.

must you love me – accident prone; it could be my
clumsy self that made me fall in love. you hate smokers,
around you; I really hope I’m not too much of a drag
yet the laughter, and the sun follow you around like
smoke– addicted, they must love you

And she asked me:
“darling, do you think you could handle me,”

while twisting my thoughts by the handle to my heart’s
door – that’s my handful; being handy to remind you,
your eyes are beautiful. but I always seem too naked with my
thoughts, would you bear with me, be bare with me

stripped of false disguise – let me know your inner child from
your mother’s womb. the heat of your body that fires the spark
between us both; aroused in your presence, and yearning for
more, by the lack there of.

pen words of worth to penetrate your thoughts, rising
up in anticipation to that sensual mountaintop, as your
passion is to spasm for me, in this naked trust of love
                     in this very moment, we are one.

Found love in a man’s clothes; the one who had
Love in his heart before that love stick in his pants

Man-made; a man made from complex emotions,
He’s just an emoji showing one shade of feeling
With a different one behind him

So few, do rarely wear their heart on their sleeve –
He does so well to cover up himself

                                              Naked men are so few!

How exposed are you,
all that lies in your heart?
All the pains and hurt it knows,
all of what you are.

To the naked eye of I,
I see in you a spark of fire.
As it longs to see you exposed,
but not when you remove your clothes.

Save that for later.

Let out your emotions,
leave them bare.
The bare essentials of you,
the deepest parts of your soul.

The battle scars carved throughout,
all that you've fought.
All that you've conquered,
all of which shows me your worth.

I'll make the effort worth the time,
awe-inspiring, for you're so sublime.
But it only gets to be as such
if you really don't mind.

My naked scars on display,
a showcase of my being.

We could be naked together.

With a naked eye,
I share these naked thoughts—
so bear with me a moment.
You found me in a vulnerable stance—
bare, but still standing on business.
Banking on every dream that still
has a resting chance.

Even when life feels mundane in too
many ways—I keep pushing, fighting
the material gaze of critics, and the
cryptic ways some people define love
and measure trust.

But between all people, there is life—
and in life there’s the chance to live out
a dream, to become who we are without
shame, to love who loves us back, yet still,
hold out a hand, as an extension of love
to those who need it the most.

And maybe, just maybe—that’s the kind
of dream worth believing in.

I heard the fury of nature
as the bee that stung
my earlobe
The thunder rolling like a
stone rolling down the mountain
I was told to drink the tears of angels
in these heavens fountain
then bathed in Spirit
to be drowning

I had loved; to the increase of
the foundation under feet
with the more yet to be found
Oh the heart is so wicked
as I spend it all on every weekend

She knows me not of my vices
in the music advice of my
long dead idols
I fair any better in the lessons
of nature, death & time

As nature is pure, death is a given
and time is strange

Life before man; the peace and creation of nature
a cloud for every eager striving flower- inhabitants
of a creek; precious stones dressing the stream’s bed
Distant cousins to sea pebbles, bond to a long year
The once great might of ancient forests; swallowing
empty valleys of earth, in their timeless brilliance
of nature

Quiet rains that are like wiping tears from the sky’s
picturesque face; to the joys of grass that hungers
The brightness of today, pours through the walls
of tomorrow’s marrow- an endless returning light
And grand spotlight to the shadows we see, and
the shadows within. Pieces of ourselves revealed
to us

Human life, under the source of day- gives an
endless revealing, of the destiny we must accomplish.

Dark reflections is only our past,
the light on the other end
Is the future ahead.
These aren't reasons to live,
rather necessary facts.

As I gaze upon you, tears streaming down your face,
I see a reflection of myself witnessing your sorrow,
It's as if your eyes shoot bullets of pure pain
And it's in this moment, I feel utterly useless,
like a needle without a sharp point, trying to
pierce your skin one last time.

Yet, despite our shared agony,
we are both numb to anything except
the hurtful words spoken by our loved ones.

My eyes, immortal and wise, yearn for
a life beyond the limits of mortality,
I desire wealth as time slowly passes, reminding
me of its monotonous nature.
In my imagination, I lead a more fulfilling existence,
However, I cannot imagine myself as the one
who will ever live out those dreams.
The sacrifices I have made will lay the groundwork
for the success that will support my loved ones.

Above all, I am someone who prioritizes others
over myself. They are my first thought, the beat
of my heart, and the recipients of my prayers
as time goes on.

In the depths of my longing, I find comfort
in the idea of transcendence.
In my mind, I envision a world where our sorrows
are fleeting moments in an eternity of joy and fulfillment.

I yearn for the day when your tears of anguish
turn into tears of laughter, when the burden of
our pain is lifted and replaced with a lightness of being.
This vision drives me forward, even in moments
of complete futility, like that needle searching for
purpose without a sharp point.

But as I dream of a life beyond my reach,
I cannot ignore the fact that I am not the main character.
I feel like that needle hidden in a haystack,
trying to find itself; a strong desire to find out
who I really am.

toxicity is just a human thing; cause of all the fumes we
all love to breathe – do our young men have much chose,
we can all live like men, but need to be trained like boys
if the roof over our troubled fires fell down, would the
smoke clear, or would we be forced to breath it all in?

but that’s how we live because we’re troubled, have dreams
inspired by the ideas of others, treat women less, as men
with no father’s, live in our own shadows because we all
hate our true colours –
                                  we just all want to breath.

I dreamt of a familiar kind of you,
that I became soaked in my own tears
I swam across oceans to reunite with you, to see you again,
but I know so much of you, and how you hate to see men
And I'd hate to admit it was all just a ******* in the end.

I wonder if you held the key to curing my depression,
I had always felt like a burden, being treated as a sickness
As I couldn't really talk to a lot of girls a while before;
so I'm guessing now, its still my only real weakness
But I learnt to catch myself enough times,
before catching anymore of unnecessary feelings
I had become a master at suppressing my feelings,
even if it meant killing a part of myself in the process
- suffering in love crimes with so many villains.

But I'd kiss a mistress as if I were her last hero,
though, I couldn't get enough of shaking
hands with a bit of lust, -it should have been
my very last in all these secret ***** dealings
Still on top of my head, I go beyond my own ceilings,
I would continue to lock my heart away, like a machine
that had been programmed; to securely lock away
it's heart with time's sealings.


                           Is this what it feels like to never love again?

Have you the nest to rest my head upon your laps,
For on this already turning world my head too is slowly spinning.

Darling if you knew the distance of my heart growing away from me you'd surely look at me with eyes of concern.

For you live just to learn, but you haven't learnt so much if you can easily count it.
And counting on me is not always a guaranteed number, but I'm taking my chances to count till infinity.

Baby if it was the right enough time for me to say this could be us, there wouldn't be enough seconds for me to say it on what time is left.

For between us both we'll make what is two to be one. But of us both one would have to make the necessary sacrifice.
Understand my ideas of marriage when I say to you I'm giving to you this life.

As I grow slowly to the idea of what the future would be, searching deeply to place my roots.
And I've found Love digging much deeper inside of me that my heart implodes.
Better yet as emotions make it explode.
And I guess for True love I'd be holding the world, taking on it's loads.

So if I ask again to find a nest on your lap to rest my head,
Don't deny me the task.
For I'd never wish in the future to beg and please for it. And maybe by then I'd never need to ask.

There' a missing scene,
in between a few texts of your last seen
Making my mind go black as that screen,
staring at the dark; a usual shadow as it seems
As you could cry yourself a river over a missed
opportunity of Netflix and chill; but it's just a couple streams

I would die,
dinning on you
Running up the stairs to a reach,
as even after death- I'll still hold onto you

Coded messages, inscribed by the scars on my skin
Aspects of a secluded heart; as the line of tears, maps
Out the journey to a long sense of finding due healing

As the border between maturity and old youth, in a new attire;
Once the public uniform of coming in your, “Sunday best,”
Disguising all the vile of yourself- as we fashion ourselves to
Look like the most likable person; the scrap pieces of dripping water
From prior baptisms- as some of the sovereign believers are uncouth
To their God, wearing the many false skins, hunted in wickedness-
Their very own diplomacy of delighted barbarism  

Separate all of your self-gratifying creeds, and agreed to
Worship in love, pray together; coming as you are- as we are
All knitted together by familiar troubles, hurts, griefs, uproars-
To raise our voices, bringing life to this new body.

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

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

she was scarred by words
painted by unholy titles
netted by momentary stomach butterflies
would love, though not loved
giving a hand, to a fistful of hate
she'd say less, they'd select
only hoping to impress, but just seen for ***

the scene plays in my head
of her story. a nightmare in my head
the tragedy of her and I are friends

Whirling vortex; -
I stalked a dream so smooth-tongued,
every whisper of it, had an attention to its
words- intentions to look so divine.

And for a fleeting choice of the moment,
I faintly enjoyed the lie.

|as slow as a night rider
comes; i've been on the low
driving nowhere nearest to the sun
all heated up over your love
stayed overnight, spending that night
under those stars- i was lost in your eyes

...and i'm hoping time slows for me to
                       stay trapped in this night

The night employs its workers after eight,
creating an atmosphere where individuals seek to escape
their mundane routines and indulge in a thrilling experience.

For one man, this nocturnal venture is
an attempt to buy time, to savor each moment of
a good time and escape the pressures of daily life.
Intentionally avoiding personal connections, he finds solace
in the nameless encounters shared throughout the night—
a world where the unknown pasts of both parties remain shrouded, not wanting to delve into the parts of each other
that we prefer to keep hidden.

Within the night's enchanting embrace, there is a woman
who possesses innocence and curiosity, although her legs
bear the weight of experiences accumulated.
She possesses the wisdom gained through countless encounters,
manifesting in the act of lighting a cigarette after moments of intimacy, letting the smoke billow upward to silently erase the tales of the night.

Her actions portray a yearning for something more,
as she continuously summons another night, effortlessly
dialing for the next thrilling adventure.

Yet, as we reflect upon the distinction between a mere
night out and genuine love, we realize the striking
similarities between the two.
Both demand a significant investment of our time, resources,
and emotions.

We willingly pour ourselves into each pursuit, striving to
stay entertained and maintain appearances.

The other hand is an ongoing exchange, where we pay to experience the thrill of a secret night, concealing our desires behind closed doors and hidden rendezvous.

In this clandestine world, we navigate the blurred boundaries between escapism and genuine connection.
The night becomes an arena for fleeting passions and borrowed moments of exhilaration, a space where we can momentarily indulge our desires and find solace in the darkness.
As we surrender ourselves to the allure of the night, we gradually become entangled in a web of undisclosed experiences, trading our time and resources for the secrets
that unravel after dusk.