But why can't you see that I am me and not the enemy?
How could I know that being me fills you with envy?
I didn't think that I could possibly be your role model
Wish you should see that we are living in a world of plans and scandals

A mere demographic can be the epitome of character and superiority
Why you are being mean at me I understand not entirely
How could I know that my presence and being put you under pressure?
How could I know that my lifestyle is tge highest degree that you long to measure?

Dear lover, I do not know in whose arms you sleep
I can only vouch for the feelings in me deep
I can find solace in the promises we aim to keep
Dear lover I long for you to fill where I am lonely
Take me to the rivers where divinity seekers feel holy
Fill me with emotions coloured in the tapestry of the wind when the songbird inspires a rhapsody

Dear lover, is it me or is there another?
Play me the muse of your love and let me **** from its udder
Let it quench the thirst that bursts when it hurts to be without you, especially in our unders
Dear lover, I am sincerely thinking about you
This feels like some sickening undiscovered dusty hue
You will be the canvas I paint on ****
a flower in bloom.
Dear love I love you more my paramour, I hope you adore this roar of emotion raw collected from secret drawers that store only ideas pure... Lover let us endure.

What my hands see when they touch your face
What my heart smells when you cook our love
What my ears taste when calling your name is my muse
What my feet hear when music walks within you
What my eyes feel when I hug you and you exhale

This is all that makes me believe in you and me

When my day is dark and the sunshine in your smile makes it alright
When I lose all sense and meaning and you loving me in a million ways is a mystery
When I play our jam and all else is smooth in a broken world
When money has reached zero and you still find wealth in being with me
When the clock ticks and I feel luck has missed me and you slow down time so I can find a leap

This is when I believe in you and me

How you inspire the birds to sing by lifting my spirit
How you pay attention to the things I forget to remember
How your beauty colours my greyscale understanding of heaven
How your soul pierces my shield of magnetic insecurity

This is how I believe in you and me

You are the spear and I am the torn tree
You are the Spring and  my love is what is locally warming
You are the torch in a dark night and I am trying to build you as a lantern to carry you longer
You are the pause in eternity and I am the pendulum hitting slow step and rewind

This is who we are in belief.

Am I plastered?
Drunk or just hanging?
Taking a dunk or just sagging?
I am given to aphorisms
Morals that build us for a reason
Trying to keep us out of mental prisons
Words have me in a haze and I cannot erase these thoughts  that keep running in an entrancing maze.

Metamorphosis. There are matters that enforce this energy which is engorged within a metaphysical force. I use my fingers to pick up a pen so to expel a thought that lingers in my pineal gland.

Goodness. It is grace amazing that is in this place or just a god or the God who shows off his face. We are presented with a gift perennial that is wrapped with mystery. In mists the fists of fate take a swing and if we believe in the unseen we can trust grit and transcend beyond wit. Train our senses to be lit so they can send us beyond -ism's to the essence of goodness.

Locomotion. In my local state I give up my locale to some divine logic gate. I dial in to wire my mental coiling to follow a calling to inspire. Ever the wiser I should soar to the mystic spheres. But ground there is insulation and my calculation computes a technical movement in my skeletal. I am moving locating my next step, relaying locomotives which are concentric energy.

Soigné. A fine dame I dare meet on a fine day. So Ignorant of her beauty I parlay my chances with a few words of jest and curved zest to interact with her invitational tract. If I have a chance in fact I will make a pact to be with her throughout the days and forget about lustful tact. I resurge and her being is muse and to me it is a purge. I aim to converse with her for days and days so we can find confluence as we psychically converge. And I'll tell her that she is pulchritudinous and I am pale true to nought, waiting for my crafting.

Words or chords to find concordance. Some say say swords to slice and pierce and dictate worlds. I say they are mellifluous like a melody that sends a melancholy sadist out of his maladies. Magnanimously magnificent in moments of poetic artistry and meandering prose fixating methodically. From the mammary of the culinary belly we squeeze out these laid letters formed to mean but not to be mean to the means of our diction or magnify our addiction. Perhaps to quantify our intellect beyond the internet, we archive them in dictionaries and illustrate them in some encyclopaedia. Perhaps grunts and clicking of tongues is some medium... But words change the world where lords fail to write laws to keep us sane, and instead have swords forged to have any man slain.

The prize has been set
The price to be met
There is an opening overhead
Matters need to be solved before we go to bed
There has been something unsettling
The soul and the mind are wildly wrestling

The aim has been to find the summit
In the scribes we read of heroes who can count it
There will be few who will account for pouncing
The pants of the upheaval direct who will wear the pants
The colour embossed in the mast of the mud bosses you unless you are a panther

In the corners of my soul the pictures form a montage
Confidence is winning tool for the seeker and his entourage
His poise and clear precision, the vivid vision all at large
I wonder in my wandering while watering the plant of my future decayed body
In the derision of the photography I have a decision to make to mark this monopoly

In the constructs of the ***** mental designs
There is a colour line that hints of a separation
Contrasting emotions in this ocean of corruption
No passion to ponder on as if looking at oneself on a pond
Just eruption and temporary satiation of a concocted false imagination
A fallacy which is hypocrisy to demonize delinquency driven by democratic debauchery
In offering one's presence to gift the box of society some fitting propriety
You lose your footing because of the escalating changes in the gravity of balanced sanity

This would riddle any walking and moving mind but will catch the eye of the seated paradigm
Dissecting each section of the situation at this cyclic station
Are we vibrating to the desired frequency or are we visiting waves that lead us to farewell before we've frequented our painted haven?
In the position of being seated, the noise quieted and the marking erased
You easily trace the place that you have to face before you can embrace the stool that pools you in an estuary
You rest at once and maybe there's your ferry or maybe just a rocking chair giving you perception from where you swing back and forth.

I can't get stuck with you here

I am moving on

I have to explore many dimensions

and galaxies.

My poetry looks dull
They need a fresh lick of Paint
Paint it with love