In the darkest of night they rise
without humanity in their eyes
rotting flesh and beastly bones
rising like blood thirsty clones

When they rise, the end is near
the world becomes full of fear
by that time, it's way too late
torture and death is your fate

The time to suffer is coming fast
then none of us are going to last
so much blood sure to be shed
on this night of the living dead.

It's time to shake our money makers
and see if we find any takers
i'm telling you, we're real heartbreakers
we were born to be *** shakers

don't look past my body and face
that would be a total waste
we really know a woman's place
just another wasted case

don't talk to us about intellect
that's a concept that we reject
we let our looks and sensuality reflect
our total mindless neglect

this city never sleeps
this city never cries
secret's that it keeps
beyond smoggy skies

car alarms
gun shots
people screaming
parking lots

this city doesn't feel
this city's not afraid
these scars never heal
these sounds never fade

jackhammer
news stand
police sirens
news van

this city never sleeps
this city never cries
you can hear it on streets
you can see it in their eyes

I am original. I am the real deal.

Nothing about me is a piece of a puzzle belonging to someone else. I do not replicate and I do not show-off. What I am is genuine and I cannot be compared to anyone.

I do not strive to be someone else, nor do I buy into materialism that justifies my inclination to a persona.

What I do allows me to stand out and always be remembered. I cannot but allow myself to be anything but me.

My greatest sin lies in the temptations of jealousy and the frailty of my mind. My greatest flaw is my flair for emotion and drama. My biggest downfall is nothing but my expectations of others.

My real criticism comes only from true friends, the liars and the frugal in emotion are my enemies... They want me more than they need me as a friend.

My being screams at insults, but my meaning comes from deep in my heart.

They earn attention; I garner admiration.
Little are my fans, but they are my family stitched with iron in a stone-clad bond.
Close are my family; my enemies, my friends.
I am but an intelligent being with a fullness of everything I have.

With God as my witness, I am His creation. And in His image, like his work, I am original in mine.

My actions burn the jealous. My choices hurt the haters. My excellence in my passions set me in the sights of my enemies.
I am anything and everything but a relative polymerisation of random organic compounds. I am not plastic.

I am an artist! One with true feel, and they know it.

Here is my hand writing
straight from my writing hand
sometimes i am a man fighting
sometimes i am a fighting man

i will never stand under
so you must understand
it is not a hand hired
it is not a hired hand

here is my signed letter
here is my letter signed
just looking to find better
just looking for a better find

To amend all of my previous statements I have made
about love, a topic that I really have no knowledge of
I will attempt to be as frank and honest as possible.
Well, as honest as poetry can be.

I cannot promise you an eternity.

Not only would that be drastic, but also inconsiderate
as the days to come may be darker than the night sky
and who will know when our feelings may drift apart
Like little leaves in the wind.

Nor can I truly love you the same forever.

Because people change, our hearts grow and shrink
with new experiences, failures, and successes too.
I know this, for my heart swells at the passing air
Whenever I think of you.

So, instead of those meaningless cliches, I would rather ask for a pact.

For us to grasp hands lying under the sunshine
knowing that the storm is brewing on the horizon
and to brave it as best we can together, and only
When we cannot take it, we will let go.

There is a significant chance we won't make it to the end
and I know this, it haunts me every second I consider it
but now, and only now, I can safely tell you my love
To my heart's content.

I love you, without negative connotation,
and I fear, I worry, I brood over everything
Fear is an old friend of mine, an acquaintance
so I cannot forget, or atone, only amend my faults.

I have no eternities to promise, no delusions of grandeur
just the throbbing of my heart, the babbling of my mouth
and a love that grows with the passing of seconds
all laid bare on the tops of the hill, overlooking the storm.

I ask no romanticism, just one action: *Take my hand, take my heart, and take my soul, and together will we walk.