Leather seating, closure in these moments
while we’re on the longest of this drive,
Maps stuffed in the glove compartment; where
shall we go on this long road?

Not giving hearts, but giving you my word,
in a blue chassis ride, skipping gears to get to five.
Going down hill, and I’ll put it down into glide.

I’m not as neutral, to express my eyes, reflecting
all the pretty mirrors of your body.
Lap sitting, holding onto my steering wheel,
hand on a rear; wipers set on low. And I’ll kiss you
one last time, as if the last becomes the first.

Blue Nissan, tell me if you’ve even been in a
ride like this before? When your empty pockets are
full, and you’re driving a car you could never afford.

I promised myself, not to do the wrongs I do to
myself to someone I love.
To not go on stealing hearts, as if this world
doesn’t have too many bandits.

My hands are vowed to only rest their desires
on you. These lips are a secret only to know
your ears.

This love I can only gladly give to my God,
You, and His people.

Death isn’t an end to us, but just a new beginning
we can only get to one by one.
So keep my seat warm up in Heaven, and I’ll keep
yours too if it’s me to go before you.

Whether sickness is chasing my lungs,
cancers diagnosed on my list of problems,
Let’s just be running towards the days of life you
and I both still have.

And like this drive,
with no rush to our final destination,
But enjoyment of all we’ll experience on this
road of life.

Cobwebs in my eyes;
how to see the world- old and dusty
My love is bit rusty, to even attempt
to steal a heart- a metal mouth speaking,
I spoke of how it felt to be made of gold,
well at least in the eyes of calling something mine

But yes I dug those many trenches,
and stuck a pole that stood as a reminder to it all
And I eventually gained the skill to write out what's
on my mind in secret- a constant mental note

In a distance so far away from myself,
striking a deal with the covers over my heart
A wet blanket; crying under the fabric
of it, to hide away those many tears from the world
I must have been a rose; well at least once before,
but sometimes the roses are still trying to find themselves,
a meaning, an identity, a cause, and a reason to grow

Tell me if you've ever felt like a beautiful flower,
though none of their eyes seem to see such beauty
In an unclear sight; overlooked by those you love,
                  -a story of all the world' blurry flowers

Tearing up in the most peculiar of ways,
I’m merely another chapter, unfolding with each
new page for every dawn—my narrative, born from
an unexpected prologue, leaves me pondering the
conclusion.

It should be an inclusive story,
but it's often so exclusive to the author’s constant habits
of being a reclusive – my eyes could narrate ten thousand
muses; yet the art of writing these days, has become so
elusive.

I was once a pen, transformed into the very letters
that compose each sentence, and crafting a narrative.
And with every sunrise, I pen another page in this
Book of I.

Surely why must love be found in the trails of fame,
an itch at the back of the throat, gratified by cough syrup of lustful shame.

Seen a car crash last week that reminded me that I was inside crashed and broken.
The ears were closed shut, but the truths were clear to hear. Sound and clear to be spoken.
Subject of the test drugs taken so naively, caught up in a split second of blitz.
Still taking those deadly drugs. Still taking those deadly risks.

Battle grounds left with the scars of a continuous fight searching for fame that is all but undeserving.
Why yet to be keeping all these secrets is so unreserving .

Crashed and burned like a flame once set that has lost it's once bright spark,
quickly speaking ill of the next. Quick to make a smirky remark.

No...

Confined to the empty space and atmosphere, thought for so long to have filled an entire space.
Now time to run away from it all, that past from far behind, faster at a more moderate pace.
To find something way better in the other days still lingering and arriving around the corner,
then touch back at it to feel safe at last and break free from this simple square border....

Sorry on the terms of coming
to terms of long awaited words
We're only the sweet nothings
desirable thoughts, but not
so thoughtful in person—per se
we do this everyday, everyday is the
same decor with different shade

Such a shame; beautiful in my eyes
but a beauty only set of afar sights
Sightseeing on what could be,
still this is the fault of an awkward me
hopeless romantic, passive; inactive love
closed heart to all but open chances to love

Would of been fun to live as just boring people
entertaining ourselves on less than serious jokes
—you don't like spoken word, but you'd maybe
listen to my cheeky comments in a spoken word
of thoughts

Being a boring cliché
words of saying I love you more than yesterday
the answer to my prayers; anyways these
feelings hunt me down as it's prey
What more can I say...actually what haven't
I said if we're still stuck as attracting friends
Face to face our magnetic force pushes us away,
and the turn of the other, pulls the other walking
the other way. It's so magnetic...oh God, that's so
cliché

We're two bored people, too bored
to board the relationship status
Lovers at first sight—old fashioned
given a little chance to act on the obvious
thoughts, could mean we'd have a little action

      ...but now I'm just so bored of these thoughts

Empty: as the word meaning a
glass bottle in Africa.

I'd have my fill;
to the brim of life's expectations.
Expected of the plenty from the very
little I have given.

Life is that empty,
as many are trying at their fill.
On the straight and narrow, of where
it sits.

Hoping it won't spill.

How tall do you measure your glass
view of life?
Fragile are the moments; tapping on
the taps of glass.

Hoping it won't crack.

This bottle is what I make of it's fill;
Am I overburdened, or overflowing,
with the cares of the world, or whether
the Holy Spirit?

A question, only with the answer from
within; and as I ask from Him.

I'm looking for myself in an empty beer bottle. Why can't I see you.
Knock, knock,  do you exist at the bottom of this bitter drink. Do you.
I pour you out into this glass till you bubbled up the top,
More a less of a fizzing to be exact to the point and this strange Bar's plot.

Once in a time older than me, you used be the thing that killed the pain for just a short while,
Till the next morning came and that buzz was gone and I had to face another trial.
Hit the bottom of the bottle, spin it around. Truth or dare.
If the hangover was the being standing by the corner, 2 o'clock I'll meet you there.
Hands on the wheel to swerve on the speedy highway,
Try not to touch your quick death if you drinking too much like there's no other arrival of another day.

Drink it once, feels so nice.
Drink it twice, about to pay that costly price.
Third time I'm probably long too gone,
It was just a couple drinks with a few kicks. I never thought it do me more harm.

Knock, knock,  you still on this earth or we lost your mind to this empty bottle.
If you could hear your own voice, tell you it to put heavy foot on your brakes and not pump more gas in the drink.  That full throttle.

Do as thou,
upon thine great love,
as sweetest true.
As thy lips spoke
worded wine vines;
thine maturity is in a knoweth of you.

Tis many zephyr of voices;
solely one true whisper of truth
thine ears do hark.
Furthest miles I've tend feet;
to descry purity of goodness,
Still short, for wickedness rests of mine heart.
Unworthy by ur thought;
feeling unworthy to thou, O' God.

Still, of thine acknowledgement of love;
myself not forgotten,
as so redeemed,
Liken to a resting shadow under the rising son.

Deemed forth light;
shone out as vessels.

So Lord,
let your will be done of it's great love,
and all it's sweetest truths.
As I speak of you;
my words of grape vines,
has a maturity from knowing you.

Despite the world's many voices;
you're the whisper of truth in my ear.
I tried to find on my own,
a purity of goodness. But I fell so short,
because of the wickedness in my heart.
So I began to believe; I was unworthy,
and felt unworthy before you God.

But you still showed me your love,
remembering me;
and had me redeemed.
I was once a shadow,
but saved by the Death and Resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Now his light lives in me;
and I am his vessel.

For in first sights of morning,
he places a breath of love in my lungs,
the echoes of strength in my beating heart.
And the ways to my first steps of the day,
freely as his bountiful vessel.

Parts of me want to be good,
not equal to me being bad
But I always feel misunderstood,
for being this sort of sad
Never what I planned,
thinking with age I'd be a man
But I'm still stuck in boyhood.

Boys being boys,
boy I wish that was always true
State of employ,
working on myself, hoping this works out
Finding myself without a clue,
not a chaser of clout
Maybe because I prefer to be silent
that all my demons seem loud.

To scared to grow,
even if it was for a pair
Would the good fruits show
going against the Peers,
Pressure on me for it,
trying to act different from the rest of the kids.

End of line!

Manhood calling on the other dial
Ringing in my head,
you should be well invested in the future
Sorry though,
I seem to have lost some interest
Man tells me I'm nothing without culture,
but hate to be known for cliché customs
Be a hot head,
volcanic to opinions erupting
But I don't think I'm good to rupture.

More I've been told,
less big boys in the world crying
To your emotions
put them always on hold.
No, I won't.

End of line!

Here's a call to the conversation,
I'll speak my preferred tone
Say if I'm down,
I shouldn't be afraid to admit I'm alone
Despite the occasion,
it's less eventful of me faking a frown.
Even with a grey cloud,
no reign of power
Determines how I'm feeling now.

A boy still at heart,
with a man deep in my soul
Carrying a spear
of the sharpness of his mind
It points out my often wild side,
As is the Spirit of tame,
coming full circle to be whole.
I take all of what makes me man,
gladly I do claim.
Loud as mountains could hear,
hear me acclaim.

Open handed to close hand,
in between feeling sad.
Going through an endless trial
in life a bracket smile.

=)

Caught up in between the lines of iconic beauty,
where every breath feels like a subtle irony that
adds depth and intrigue to the mundane.
In this cliche rhetorical question, posed on the picturesque
pier, I find myself grappling with the overwhelming waves
of peer pressure, walking on a metaphorical platform that
seems to lead to sinking waters, where regrets
lie in wait for us all.

And yet, in this moment, as I dance under the soft,
comforting moonlight, alone in the quiet emptiness
of a room, a sense of tranquility washes over me.
There is a certain solace in knowing that nobody
is watching, allowing me to truly be myself, free from
judgment or expectations.

It's a bit like crying in the shower, a sanctuary that
provides temporary relief, where even the count of
my own tears becomes irrelevant amidst the soothing
water cascading down. And, as if to warm the chilly
corners of my memories, I wear a jacket backwards,
wrapping myself in the nostalgic embrace of my past.
It's a path that once held so much promise, but ultimately
went down in a blaze of old glory, leaving behind a
bittersweet residue.

In this passage of time, seemingly worshiped by all,
I must admit that I sometimes struggle to recall its name.
I have become forgetful in the face of life's demands and
distractions, but one thing I will never forget is the immense
courage it takes to walk this path. To be brave, to face the
uncertainties and challenges, even when forgetting seems
to be second nature.

The memory of that courage remains etched in my heart,
a constant reminder to never falter, to keep pushing forward,
and to embrace the unknown with unwavering determination.

//A tear behind a smile
—it's pretty flower waters
remind me on how to cry
Blurred in between the lines
of pretending to be fine

We are all sometimes this flower
growing in amongst ashes
Do not look down on my prowess
not all brave heroes started off,
without once feeling like cowards

But given the right hour;
soon you shall conquer

The shadows gaze silently, cloaking me in divorce clothes
–splitting my mind in two. Nobody is innocent; for even
in the innocent eyes of a child, they must grow up –
Certainly no exception to this rule. At times, I find myself
draining the essence of my dreams, spiralling into a vortex
of procrastination, throwing my efforts down the drain.

Life is a canvas, and the art of existence is wrought with
suffering – the masterpiece of my story will be a portrait
painted with my blood, sweat, and tears, left as a haunting
Stain.

Yet, how we cast judgment upon the suicidal for not being
brave– praising the brave for flirting with the precipice of
risking their lives. As a true master of their courage; are
those who confront their deepest fears and still strive to
soar beyond them.

Still, I’ll walk through night as a strange person follows me;
only to discover that the shadows watching silently are
merely the echoes of my own regrets.

Asking myself where do I fall in people's eyes
–brave or suicidal...

Oh bread crumbs;

The birds have eaten up my path
Their sky has swallowed up my past,
They love to quickly spit it all out

As I shared the deepest parts of myself
With people that held no trust, or love –
Now my past is all they speak about

Now that's foul.

It's a bit of a tragic event, how much pain I surely bare.
Life is in with me a game, not playing fair.
I  could tell you of how much my tears fallen are filling the oceans.
We all standing in the same line, a few causing a couple commotions.

You probably lost my attention span at Hello,
if I were to break down and shutdown, know it's for the hurt in my heart far below.
I'm often feeling so low to the ground, you could smell the dust that chokes your air.
Hurt being a person who hears your downfall could meet you at the bottom. Meets and greets  you there.

It would be a crime to be sad and we all are serving life sentences.
To have your own judgment of pain be the evidence to a court, who's love for you is just black emptiness.

I would tell you to duck down but I did it first.
O'look how I could taste the soil particles from being so down. We could lie to each to be always cursed.
Just say  goodbye and goodnight to unhappiness. It never stays long.
If we all could sing the one thing to bring us up, we would all have a song.

Breathe, breath of sweet realise,
Tomorrow is always a brand new day. Go find in it your Peace.

I live to breathe, I breathe then seek;
to seek my dream.

I dream for one, and pray to one God for all;
for all who breathe.

I breathe to live, to live my worth, the worth
of time, and how it's spent.

I spent my days on the prayers I long to send;
I'll send out the message written in my heart.

I write with my heart, and never miss a beat;
still I beat myself when I'm not myself.

And by myself, I could never find a reason to breathe.

Pressing charge,
unplugging the worth you have in my heart,
Wicked, and deceitful,—would I seem saying,
"I love you with all my heart"

What haven't I loved long before you,
I've loved another; or rather a better
taste of you. Cloying; to a degree of natural ecstasy.
Scented ravenousness, so sweet by the first brim of
open lips connected.

I've had an affair with her, over the plain;
that seemed to be what we once had.
But still I could never start my day firstly without a
hint of you; yearning yourself down throat.

Enkindled by you both; though as the latter
proved herself, only in the first few times.
My bladder full to breaking point of a glutted
water balloon; hanging on a thin string.

The effect she had on me...

The effect of when I picked a latte coffee
over my traditional black brew.

Be bright as a smile,
easy to define as a light.
A star, in the darkest of nights.

Broken family ties;
are you caught up in the lies,
And could you survive?

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

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

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

Expectation of finding reflection
in your life,
How do so when all around are broken mirrors,
much like I am
A fragile frame of glass.

Jumping off the edge of life,
still haven't met the bottom,
Just floating along in the air.

As a lot I say to sadness,
only giving me a headache to the moon,
I just need my space,
still I love to rush into it,
but I'm not down to the race.

For this could be the anti, anti
of my anti source of feeling
An anti, anti feeling to how I'm secretly
bleeding out of the face.

It's all made me feel worthless,
as the piece of trash in this world.
I'm such a waste,
wasting away on so many negative feelings,
A subtraction of life within me.

All are little broken pieces,
just too tiny for you to really see them.

By the time any read this
time to me would have again fade.
Like a disappearing act
a lot to me goes to waste
As I too waste much of my time.

I'm like a broken seconds hand
while the other two move forward in time
Circling round me in this endless cycle,
always feeling left behind.

Friends are ahead in life
bright smiles and cheers
I'm left in the dark
broken somehow, but I don't know what.
Wishing I could trade in some smiles over these tears.

Another cycle in life
goes round my broken clock
It ticks away, but fails to tock,
as it's cogs are rusty and antique
Rubbing only more strain to another,
pieces that once had a gleam, no longer blick.

I break so many times
but try not to stay broken
I felt weak as a youth
Low and down with the soil,
it scared me that will one day be my end,
When I get too old.

What if the parts of my clock
can't be fixed
Will I just be broken seconds
lost in time, or lost in my self destruction
Why hurt yourself so many times
just to see if you're still working?

I'm only trying to work on myself,
to fix the tiny pieces slipping through the cracks
Even when I crack a smile,
there's a bigger crack behind it.
It ticks away,  cracks into tiny tocks,
I pray to be fixed,
and put back together from my broken parts.

Tis this song of heart
But it feels hard to sing aloud
I’m caught up in the crowd
Wondering if I’m enough, still sticking around
And by the reminder of my tears on ground
I question myself—if I’m making you proud

Tis a song I want to sing
Worship of the morning, though on broken wing
I feel robbed by the world of stolen kiss
I pray often, but often the hurt keeps me to my knees
And I’m quick to count all my fears
Stuck in this burden of my burning guilt

Tis my broken song I have only
Singing till your strength becomes my portion
Raising my arms, and heart as widely open
Redeeming those faults, and daily sorrow
Knowing only for today, you’re to decide my tomorrow
I am just a flower—waiting on yours, and power

Tis songs I sing in despair
As when life feels unfair, I know in prayer
To meet in hope, and always find you there

Lord I thank you for this song
Broken as it is, it allows the fixing in me.

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

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

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

Likely in an entire lifetime I'm yet to have lived
Taking each day on just as fling.
Hoping to fly through my time, but surely how on Broken wings.

A Great Eagle falling down from it's high pride and grace.
Those he preyed Upon now prey on his misfortune,
The hunt he once owned, he now owes back to be the hunted.
All the strength of his wings all gone to waste.

But him and I are possibly that much a like
Surviving on the skills that keep us close to life.
For we'll both will find such fright when the skill blessed upon us doesn't provide food to hold our stomach down for the night.

Our broken wings will ache so greatly, trying desperately to stretch.
While being held down to foreign land that holds down our weight,
And for a short period we'll lose the identity of our nature and be like dogs playing fetch.

But that's not the moment telling our time is surely done yet,
For through the aching of our Broken Wings we'll stretch them out to find our strength again.
Looking to the skies our home, stretching out to her to hold her once more in our wings stretch.

Taking to the great skies for our Broken Wings shall not hold us back any more,
Take to the Sky as she gives back to us our True place.
To fly above it all as the great Bird we are and soar.

On these once Broken Wings we've found the strength they've always had from before.
For we aren't held down to the ground, for Eagles don't find their True place towards the floor.

So to the Eagle and I, shall we find strength on our Broken Wings.

The shape of your love’s image
Makes one imagine,

The many brushstrokes –

Painting out such a masterpiece
like you, Love.

To each stroke of luck—these strokes run wild,
painted with ambition. Life is a wondrous garden:
to some, every bloom is beautiful, to others, the
loveliest things are guarded by thorns.

What looks like harmony can be smeared on
an ugly wall. The signature of familiar pain—
it’s often signed as a lover.

Two met by eyes, blush.
Two lips in love, brush.
Two weights of emotion, crush.
And the quickest reason to fall? A rush.

And long indulged is the ego— eager to rise
above itself, but low on accepting its flaws.
We are a world painted in delicate watercolours,
slowly dripping away from this life, until we no
longer remain as unique colours to paint this world.

Still—they will remember our impression, through
the force of our expression. And when we’re gone,
on the great canvas in the sky, we shall hang up
there instead.

Life's not seen in a straight line
couple bumps & curvy roads
is always to be expected.
Life can't promise to always be fine.

We'll fall more than we can even count
giving cuts & bruises. Pain & hurt.
Constantly feeling we're being taken out
some are running ahead of this life
but never coming up first.

Never can we say life was so easy
you say it stinks to be you,
so maybe people will call you out
for being so cheesy.

On a road that goes here & there
as it moving left or right.
A lot of shortcuts and secret paths
still stick to the path leading to your goals
They'll guide you if you only focus your sights

The end of your road may seem so far
but walk on it so the end feels much greater
The beautiful sights on it are for the memories you'll soon capture.

Cherrish your little moments
don't worry about bumpy roads always there.
Life won't always be fair
but in it there's always those giving you their care.

The care of which is so rare,
cherish it for it won't always be there.

The world can't give you it's love
but surely a greater love comes to
us from up above
So I ask you, is that not enough?

In a dark night
I built myself a black coffin,
to bury all my fears
With a couple dark thoughts
and some black tears.

As is my old self,
buried away underneath the past
Ten feet,
stepping away from the before
Descending,
going to be part of the Earth
Apart from me,
I could never bury away self worth.

Even being stuck in a hole,
won't grantee one to be as open
As a whole,
entirely sure I have pieces left of my soul

In my hollow depression,
fear was a chain of thoughts
Keeping me in captivity,
so to free my mind
A piece of me had to die
Buried alive.

Like my deep thoughts,
I had dig myself into a deep hole.

Buried alive,
the old sinks beneath me
The new me has will to survive.
Buried alive,
digging away pieces
As does our past selves decay.

What's of the dark
goes back to those origins
And of every one of our mistakes,
fears, regrets and all
They go beneath us,
and we will surely rise above them all.

I've cried through open veins,
bleeding out open wounds
And most definitely lots of pain.
Questioning a lot of, if God does exist,
why the existence of suffering in present,
In the present days of life,
failing to see the gift in living.

I've lived for wealth, lived for the pain,
but none of them did me well.
I did a lot to try pass the blame,
thinking it was all because we
were all living in Hell.

Cause if there's fires in this world,
my faith doesn't seem to be putting it out.
What's burning down in the world
is burning in me too,
It's all crumbling down.

I'm often scared of living,
and even more scared of dying,
Death seems to always be the easiest way out,
but won't guarantee I go out with
laughs and smiles.
Still living isn't much as easy thinking
about it,
Every opportunity you get always comes
with its trials.

So I live out my worth,
walking through a lot of fires.
Hoping not to get burnt.
Can't always expect to skip through life,
a lot of hurts always on repeat.
But I'm still here for a while,
won't leave to soon,
Even if there's chaos on the Earth

I'm stronger by each day,
each day is a growing lesson in every trial.
So if this is the journey of me,
let me pack my bags and walk through it
with a smile.

stole my heart from an empty place –
our love is a battlefield;
fighting not to kiss one last time,
and making me feel like I’m in love
before I even kindled those very sparks –
                              my chest is your fireplace.

As I stood there, surrounded by the smoldering remnants
of a testament fire, the fierce and burning flame of truth
licked at my lips, leaving behind the taste of ash and smoke.
It was as if the very essence of my being had been
engulfed by the scorching salts of the Pacific ocean,
causing me to drown away the weight of my past and
propel myself towards a new, transformative moment in my life.

In that pivotal moment, as I gasped for breath,
I could feel myself taking in a new perspective, as if I
were biting into the air itself to taste a vision
that the world could never comprehend.
The decision to speak out, to give voice to the dream
that had long been buried within me, felt like a bolt of
lightning striking at the core of my being, collapsing my
chest with the weight of my own despair.
Yet, behind the mask of my fixed gaze, it seemed as
though none could truly see the depths of my turmoil.

With each step I took through the blistering desert,
the searing heat pierced my skin like a thousand razor-sharp
blades, each one a painful reminder of the unstable journey
I was now embarked upon after losing my trusted steed.
My once-moist lips were now as dry as the touch of the hot,
heavy air that danced in merciless circles on my sun-drenched skin.

And as I gazed out at the horizon, it appeared as
a thin needle in my eye, relentlessly chasing the elusive
tip of the vast ocean, an ever-present hope of finding
solace and respite.

Yet, just when all seemed lost and the weight of my
journey threatened to consume me, a miraculous
sight greeted my weary eyes.
In a corner of the globe, hidden away from prying eyes,
I stumbled upon an oasis.

Its pristine water beckoned to me, tantalizingly
close to the edge of my own demise.
With each sip, it tasted as if it held the spirit of life itself,
filling my cherished cup to the brim and overflowing with
a sense of renewal and gratitude.

In that moment, as the cool water quenched
my parched throat, gratitude flooded my being.
I was no longer consumed by the burning flames of my past;
instead, I stood, reborn and rejuvenated, ready to embrace
the boundless possibilities that lay before me
— no longer burnt out.

Peanut butter sheets; she’s trying to jam
Me up, sometimes when we’re making love –
But hey, we had a good laugh –

Our feelings;

Were never really bred so well from the start –
But hey, these days she loves a slice of my love.

Every time I spread her open, whenever she butters me up –
But hey, she’s my favourite flower, and my Buttercup.

I've traded the butterflies in my stomach for birds
woodpeckers,— they seem to be of the groans
I have around
you.

tap, tap, tap

There goes the sound of my love for you,
flying south to the warmest parts of
my heart

Truly I am bird shy in expressing my love

Is this truly
love?

Butterflies are birds now

Still wonder why they make us cry
Lord knows I be praying trying to ask him why.
And it's a shame it would have to come to this
Too many taking shots but really they're too afraid to miss.

Could a thousand shots to a heart be shot just to make it bleed
Knees be sore and bruised trying to pray for our every need.

But those are just my words.

**** shame I had to lose myself in all other people's selfish words
Expensive taste they try to place on me, taking wrong corners. Living a life of risky swerves

But could I be just the prey to this predators teeth
You say as much as you can to try **** me from beneath.

But those are just my words

But I refuse to be a slave to the words you use to bind me as chains
They may talk full but I won't give you any space to plant yourself in these empty plains.

For if you going to say hate to one really you should hate on yourself
If you were to think you're dying, I would blame such of your words for destroying your own health.

But those are just my words. Don't take to personal
But a word of advice, such of your words are but irreversibly.

But those are just my words.

Yours: were those repetitions of actions; underneath the comment of
her starry eyes, waiting to add an explanation of my place as her caption.
We both explore the aftereffects of years of catching onto one another—as the successful hunt shows pleasant results; while the longer course of it comes with many love scars… but along the way, I heard the spinning tales of your story by the roundabouts. All the places you had been, shouldn’t have been, and a lot of questions about your whereabouts. Whereas the hoodlums turf their side from the thugs, and I make a territory between us, to avoid long hugs- a criminal kind of love

We both know the boys who keep a contact list of girls to pick out from, as like commodities well kept: she knows a message well sent, as the night gives the best of time for us to act like our true selves

Let’s not jump into so many conclusions as if leaping into big decisions; as our memories are well kept in sky, but at times we seem confined by these crying ceilings. For a worthwhile love, we live to find a means of making a quick buck, copying that success and sitting back while the currency prints- there’s nothing wrong with such money-making schemes; unless it gives others the idea of buying into dreams. And unfortunately, we both quietly know what that means



Sort of met by carnivorous eyes- feeding desires
into one another; a few lives cut short to the unsettling sound
by an incomplete strung of a chord. Rebellious young ones
sneaking out to the clubs, later on tamed at home; there’s
such a thirst for our wrongs when we’re perfectly alone—
but as you miss someone as much as a faithful faster
misses lunch, even a clone of them wouldn’t do you much…

Breakups do cause ill actions; “you said you’re not sick
of me,” but I subtly taste a bit of ***** in these latter kisses
—let’s talk to unlock our deepest feelings; dialogue is
key. The end of her blush is the brightest of spots, but is
a sign to end a conversation with an abrupt full stop
“Fool, stop,” her forced smile must annoyingly be saying

Those face masquerades must be working hard today;
without sounds of cries- pretending we enjoy telling
each other, “yeah, we’re fine,” or was it the rephrasing of it,
to admit to ourselves that this love has always felt like a fine

If I could go back in time just to be two seconds closer to you,
I'd already save up the hours I have just to find my way back to you.

If I could only fit right through the cracks to find my way back to you,
I'd be running all the way back because I'm in love with you.

I swear I'm drowning in a pool of love, but it's really all I've got.
It's all but a little, but to me it seems like a lot.

In time, it feels like I'm two seconds ahead of you.
And when you're not around I don't know what to do.
Feels like I'm just so lost away from you.

If only I could buy the time.
You would be mine.

If I could be the hours of your life just to be much closer you,
I'd swear the seconds I've bought could fill the time to let me stay right next to you.

If I only had the time to spend all my hours on you,
I'd find all the reasons the why I can't ever get enough of you.

I swear I'm drowning in a pool of love, but it's really all I've got.
It's all but a little, but to me it seems like a lot.

In time, it feels like I'm two seconds ahead of you.
And when you're not around I don't know what to do.
Feels like I'm just so lost away from you.

If only I could buy the time.
You would be mine.

And so, he asked his boys:

hey who’s that girl sitting by herself by the
corner- is she a party for the night, or just a drugstore
is that a spark in her eyes to call this a match;
or is she one fighting to not be boxed by love?

But for her:

she’s drinking something twice her age, but she
asks herself what’s the real age of being free- living
like a chemical, cos no one really knows the shape of
you soul, don’t you know?

She wore a wig only as a bold choice; she pulled it out
the closet filled with dust and shadows— searching for
a good time, passionate or novel. He looks to be strong
with his jawline; perhaps he’s taken a few by the chin;
so if she denies him, he probably won’t throw a fit

Whistle your thoughts into my ear –
inside the shadow of your fine fire;
it burns me close to almost dying

When two lips kiss in a perfect song
a rhythmic crescendo – to build the
feeling of love so pure, and never felt

While you melt my tears like ice drops,
that waters a flower in a garden of pristine
let’s wait upon our dreams; until the place
they become so real…

When we’re out by the sea,
as far as we can see!

Tell me what is it like to close my eyes
against the brilliance of your smile,
Yet I still feel it’s warmth on my skin?
Like a breath held in full anticipation,
I can’t wait to take you in, before letting
you out; just to find my natural peace.

Those intense stares, sending shivers
down my spine, walking round the corners
of uncertainty within me – you remind me
Of a picture of glass stairs, that leads straight
to your heart; yet each step must be taken with
the utmost caution– you are delicately beautiful.

Each dawn, I find myself quietly haunted
by the memory of your tender caress,
The remnants of yesterday’s air infused
with your essence, drifting into the promise
Of tomorrow – I wonder at which moment you
will unveil your love for me, as one might
delicately pluck the petals of a flower.

“She loves me, she loves me not…”
I am still unravelling that enigma.

Call in the cavaliers to chase me down for all the wrongs I've done,
Call in the cavaliers for this battle is still not won.
Tell them all I've tried to fix the things that aren't mine,
Tell them I tried to do things that aren't mine,
Tell them that I've wasted too much time

Call in the cavaliers for I've mistaken little for all,
trying to steal the riches left out for the poor,
Pushing down the enemies trying to make the weak fall.
Call in the cavaliers for they know what to do,
The things that must be done to fix it all,
the things I broke that need to be made brand new.

Call in the cavaliers to make my amends with those I hurt,
for those I had dumped my pains, set fires to have their hearts left burnt.
Call in the cavaliers to show me how to start it all again,
To fix my heart, to heal my soul,
to face this days, fix it all and to know when.

I need the cavaliers for they know my mistakes and what must be done,
To fix and mend it all to what it once was,
To finish the good fight for this battle is won.

The end of the line, is in this rhyme!

Hello to those of you listening,
recording all your thoughts.
Quick to answer the call before it's ringing.

Been caught up in between the wires,
haven't chatted with my inner child in a while.
The conversation at times, is caught up
in between the lines.
I laugh about it like it's all but fine. Wait, someone else is ringing up my line.

Depression, so nice of you to call,
thanks for reminding me why I feel so alone.
But I'm going to have to put you on hold.
You're happy to leave a message, straight after the tone.
And I'll be glad to leave it on ignore.

I don't live on people's area codes,
grew up so different from my two older bros.
My route in life has too many crossroads.
As a kid, I was never short a moment
of being weird.
Those cringy moments still haven't been cleared.

Speaking about the kids,

Searching for love, but she tries to test you.
Expecting too much from you, but won't double text you.
Testing my texting,
wasting my reproductive times too busy sexting.
I only know love for the worst expectations, and those hidden intentions.

Not to mention,
we're too busy overspending.
For a love that never replies your message.

Tell me if that's not depressing?

Anyways Mr Operator,
the problems of my mind sound too much like a dictator.
Tell them to call now, but I'll answer them later.

It's about that time,
I cut this call by the end of the line!

Cherry bumps, bumping to you in the preceding
of your body's prequel. You're looking like a sequel,
I just want to see you in that see through.

Let me hit it till I quit, quit it till I miss it.
I know it's been a minute in the warmth of your body
and long socks. Advances of awkward romances is all I got.
Could I be the key to your secret lock, walking through your
door after a long tongue knock?

Knock, knock, knock,
to taste the sound of love, the pleasing ears of raining
down drizzles of when you come—around this time
when I'm done. Could I be your night's desirable secret?
I'm quite good at keeping secrets; fulfilling pleasures in
your imaginative wishes.

Okay maybe that's just wishful thinking; sinking in
the loves of night—your love is what I'm seeking.
You're what I'm missing, to be hopefully kissing you
the next time we're meeting.

Ring, ring, ring,
please put on your tone, call for my company anytime
you feel alone. The distance seems far, but close to my
heart when your embrace is my home. Living in the
moment—capture it all in my focus. Who needs a bed of roses;
you're already my pretty flower I'm holding onto the closest.

                              Just pick up the phone my love.

I'm a basket case,
with nothing more to eat, but just the chip on my shoulder
I feared never making it close to twenty one,
to now my biggest fear of getting anymore older
I live on borrowed time,
asking the many second favours from the clock on the wall
And to have myself to chin up,
counting all the hairs on it; feeling insecure when I count them all.

I'm no role model,
but know the act of a fool, smiling through their pain
At the awkward age,
of not being young or old enough to fit in adulthood's frame
But through the window of my eyes
you see I'm made of glass through hurt of my window pane
I had a brush with death,
but quickly swept the fear of dying under the rug of tomorrow
As if I live for all of today,
yesterday's always feel much simpler, knowing what to follow

I'm no leader,
when I feel battered on my social battery made out of led
I'm a foe to myself,
overthinking most times, as anxiety tends to be a friend.
I'm a double entendre,
humorous as an awkward smile much brighter in the dark
I'm an oxymoron,
double checking every meaning to anything closest to my heart

              I'm a calm demeanor, with a messy mind,
                 tidying my words before speaking something foul
                       at most, more of a human's human inside
                             born of the birds and the bees,
                          flying high in my dreams, as my mind is fowl.

I wish a dream was easy to buy into
like a cancer stick;— dying for a piece.
Inhaling vapors, and blowing off
smoke in a puff of dreams.

Life is like a cigarette; an addiction
to living with feelings of regret.
Time is all ashes, slowly deducting
your frame till death,
And love consumes the lungs;
too much of the wrong kind,—becomes toxic.
To advertise the biggest buyers of such dreams
for a rich life like a **** cigarette;
To be honest with the kind of addiction,
being rich appears costly.

But I guess if I'm an old truck blowing
smoke, it just means I'm exhausted.
Addicted to the cigarette life,
whether tip toeing, or running towards death,
either side, do play it cautious.
Cos whatever end you smoke the cigarette,
all roads lead to death.

I'm just a humble beggar, with nothing but
this old beggar's song resonating in my soul.
It may seem like there's something wrong with me,
but appearances can be deceiving. Deep down,
I'm content with who I am and the life I lead.

Just like a flickering candle, I find myself blowing away time,
as if trying to defy its relentless passage.
The hours slip through my fingers like grains of sand,
yet I embrace each moment with a sense of acceptance.
I don't long for death to take me away, for in doing so,
the whole world would descend into darkness,
robbing others of the light that I bring.

Though my circumstances may be humble, I find solace
in the fact that my voice can still touch hearts and minds.
With each note I sing, I seek to bring a glimmer of hope
and beauty to a world that can often be cold and unforgiving.

Just as a beggar's song tells a story of struggle and resilience,
my existence too has meaning and purpose.
I continue to embrace my role as a humble candle,
spreading warmth and illumination in a world that is in constant need of both.