Coming to swallow
everything in it' s path ,
rushing into whatever
is capable of containing it ,
the villagers are at their wits end.

Their efforts to secure
their "precious valuables"
are short yet stern ,
but their committment is unwavering.
Absolute heroes.
Anyone ,
would marvel at such heroism
for such an obscure act until.....
those "precious valuables"
are exposed
and highlighted alongside ;
their "precious" allegiance
woven with an unbreakable
committment.
The villagers are much more
sinkers , than swimmers.

But,
there IS a God.
A God that DIDN' T send an ark
because He DIDN' T send a flood
that the villagers could drown in.
No ,
instead He Sent a flood
that the villagers can stand in.

But yet and still ,
the villagers are nothing
without that ark.

Have you ever heard ,
"Your facts are wrong !" ?
I have.
Has any of your proof ,
been proven wrong ?
Yeah.....me neither.

Pardon my manners ,
Hi , I' m Stupid.

I' m out.
No more ammo.
No more troops
but a whole lot more war left.
I' m scared man ,
like SO ******* scared....
but I' m brave though.

Ain' t nothing comfortable
about bravery.
Bravery ain' t nothing but fear
being used as a weapon.
But I' m out.
No more mags.
No secondary.
No frags.
No back up.
Just....a wait.

Imagine battling ,
and I mean BATTLING....
the elements , the enemy ,
yourself
and the 'Mona Lisa' of tragedy
so candidly and effortlessly
staring back at you.
Now take that imagery ,
and LIVE IN IT.

Now imagine ,
the safe souls ,
in there safety nets
ever so specifically critiquing
YOUR FIGHT !
I' ve never seen ***** bigger.
If you know EXACTLY what to do
in this fight ,
WHY AREN' T YOU OUT HERE WITH ME ?

The thing about war ,
someone ,
somewhere
is in danger.
But only a soldier runs to tyranny.

"Is prison , for the criminal or is prison for the one who commits a crime ?"

I' ve heard many times ,
"There' s no such thing as a stupid question."
That' s subjective.
Too broad of a spectrum ,
too many variables if you ask me.
But what I DO believe ,
is maybe some questions
don' t have an answer.

Now that I' ve introduced myself ,
I' m ******* tired.
I' m tired of being alone
and I am ******* tired
of being tired.
It feels like
I have to enter a God Forsaken ,
raffle.....
just to get a TASTE of luxury.
I don' t gamble.

When you hear "luxury"
you' re probably thinking
"Big house."
"New car."
"Nice clothes."
Those are cool ,
but the luxury I crave ,
is comfort.
Comfort and sleep ,
a whole lot of sleep.

The late Myles Munroe once said
"We want power."
It' s why we chase fame and riches.
None of that feels like me.
None of that IS me.
I just want ,
to not be so ******* used.
I want ,
to not be constantly manipulated ,
and laboured
and tested
and tempted
and tortured
and stressed.

Notice ,
I said "...the luxury I crave"
not "the luxury I chase."
I' m a firm believer in ,
whatever has to be chased
simply doesn' t want to be caught.
But a man can dream.

I commit crimes ,
but I am NO criminal.

I' m just ******* tired.

**** man !
Can this hurry the **** up ?!
How much longer do I have to be at the back ?!
And what the **** makes these people ahead of me so ******* special ?!
They don't even look like they've waited a day in their life !

All I ******* know is
"It's not your time."
"It's not your turn."
WHEN ?!
When IS "my turn" ?!
Do I even have....
a ******* turn ?!
I spent 25 minutes standing in this ******* line !
My feet hurt man.
My back is tightening up.
I'm cranky,
CAUSE THIS **** DOESN'T LOOK LIKE IT'S MOVING !
**** man !
****.

I just wanna get to the front.
I just wanna get what's for me.
And no,
not so I can hurry up and leave.
Just,
so these "minutes",
would feel like actual minutes
and not 25 years.

I like,
not needing a reason to eat you.
It's comforting.
So "comfort food" is appropriate.
It's crazy how,
you always feel like the right answer.
The right answer for boredom,
the right answer for sadness.....
It's almost like,
I see you more,
I feel you more,
than when I'm actually hungry.

I know the damage that it's doing
but this is all I've come to know.
It's like,
I can't function without you
or maybe something isn't usual.
And I've been strickened
by repetition for so long that,
"usual" became my crutch.
I'm scared to need you
because I know how good you feel.

So I consume you,
while "It" consumes me.

I'm not even hungry....

I feel like I hurt you.
I know I didn't
but it feels like I did.
You're making yourself feel like I did
so now I do too.
You think I feel nothing for you
so you think you're nothing to me
but yet and still,
I feel like I hurt you.

It's not my fault that you forgot
that I'm a risk.
But see you "forgot"
so at one point,
you knew.
Don't act like you're in the dark.
But most importantly,
don't act like I put you there.

You won't see this.
And it wouldn't matter if you did.
After all of myself I've shown you,
you still act like you don't see.
So reading this would be pointless...
for you.
For me,
this is the barrier between
the disdain that I feel
and the "*******" that you'll hear.

I want to love you...
woman.
With everything in me.
Enough til it kills me.
I want you to be my prize.
I want it to be you woman
that I meet at the end of this road.
I want,
for you to be the "good" part.
I really want that.

But I can't love you woman.
Not now, not here.
Not yet.
If I tried,
it won't be love.
It'll be scorn.
It'll be resentment.
It'll be the cold and harsh.
It'll be the "*******"s
and "I don't care"s.
And that's one thing I enjoy the most
....caring.

It'll be everything but ***.
I can dedicate my body to yours,
be your high at day's end
with good, strong and close ***.
Give you my mouth and manhood.
Taste you until you feel delicious...
and "this" still,
wouldn't be ***.

That's not my hunt.
We make it ***
when you make it ***....woman.
You're not a little girl.
You wanted me to know that.
So don't act like one.
I know,
It's easy to forget.
You do it all the time.
But you can't forget this...woman.
You didn't give in to me,
you gave in to yourself.
You just chose me as company.

You invited me in
and I filled you with goodness
and my forsaken seed.
So now,
you feel like this story writes itself...
or atleast you hope it does.
But there you go,
playing "little girl" again.
This story didn't write itself,
these are your words on these pages.

So here I am,
stuck in a story,
that you've written for me.
Stuck,
as the pain you feel.
And even though I didn't want a story,
even though we never needed one,
Im the chapter you just can't wait to close.
You did this,
all of it.
And still I Feel Like I Hurt You.