love hate heaven hell peace war passion apathy beauty ugliness fantasty reality happiness melancholy freedom captivity strength weakness innocence and guilt
It travelled back and forth and sometimes her albatross was a perpetual quest for balance but other times she was certain she wouldn't want it any other way.
I’m so afraid to tell her I love her so I only do it when I’m drunk, or we’re drunk together and still the words nervously tremble they shake like orange leaves in autumn and the wind doesn’t carry them they just fall, quietly and unnoticed becoming just a nuisance to later be packed into black plastic bags and thrown to the curb.
All the while, all the ****** while, she stood there, waiting for me to unlock the gate in the wall But I was the fool, you see, to think I held the key For all the while, the prisoner was me, not she
A Shakespearean muse cannot alas venture forth upon the fragrance of allure
"***? Are you high?"
Love is my intoxication and thus I've become an 18th century daffodil who shall remain chaste and true
"Dude! You got to hear this whack chick over here. Offer her a drink"
"Hey gorgeous... let me buy you a round! What are you drinking?"
I drink from the wine of discretion and allow its strength to escort me on as a golden fleece protecting virtue, honor and consequence
"*******! Dude! You weren't kidding. This chick is out there!"
"Hey Aphrodite... but why are you out alone with all your friends? Where's Zeus or whoever?
He rides the wings of Pegasus looking for our land of plenty while his heart resides next to mine in a dance of promise and expectation
"Well if it was me I'd be right here because I'd never leave you alone"
The heart cannot be bound by another; it must be allowed to roam free in the wilds testing it's will and only then can one know if love is fleeting or everlasting
"**** babe, whatever you're on I want a case...."
Search your heart for your true self; it is not an acquisition but a dormant flower waiting for you to shed your false notions of manhood and prideful restraint
"Ohhh kaaayyy." Good luck with that sweetie... I think my friends are leaving."
The hard part is to say it with a straight face....
I refuse The call of my muse. I will not prolong His song. Send me another Fantasy lover, Topple him From my heart’s throne, And let me be alone. The price of inspiration Is too high. I’ll stop writing I will try.