It's not just what I heard
but who I heard it from
I hurt you? You hurt me, too
and brought in depression
Do I really deserve this much aggression?

Tell me that you'll stab me and I'll let you in
for a hug, and if it's the last one,
the one that I give you, then perfect

just perfect

If you want a war,
I'm captain and soldier
whatever the cause it's you and I'll be there
If you want a war
of consciences and guilt
until one of us drops dead
instead of the, "ain't doin this"
I will be the one
to do you in.

Currently, I receive energies played in waves above
plains sunken under progressive ruination
streets of rock run white with rain
washing and washing
ways for joy to fall,
waste washing down from heaven in rain
washing and washing.
Under their breath someone sees death and says
what of what I'm left, with and without?
While the next life in line with their hands in their pockets
can't help but just stand there and nod, in a
wave that continues to the rough edge of people
besieged by grief huddled nearby if not together in the flood.
I can't help but stand there and kick the water
while looking over my shoulder at loneliness.
Somewhere behind me, there is nothing.

He told me that he was afraid.
He told me that he had loved just one girl in his life.
And that she had crossed Seven seas and eight worlds by this lonely moment
That we were caught up in the swirls of the green grassy smoke of Mary and Jane.
He told me that I was too pretty for his eyes, mind and soul.
I told him,
It’s a heat and that I was not there to **** him.
I told him that we were just caught in the jingle of the purest heat,
I told him to relax and sleep.
And that I will not touch him.
I told him that I’m a sweet ******.
I told him to stop staring at me with those sweet puppy eyes,
So that I can control my arousal, nausea and heat.
I snuggled close to him on a single bed,
Lulling him and sending strong telepathic heat.
After a while, he turned.
He asked how wrong it would be if he would go soft in between the sacred art of love,
I told him that is the passion and that is the heat.
And that it is to be simply genuine to your rushes wherein *** comes.
I told him *** is not an exam.
I told him that *** is a rush.
I told him that *** is the Heat.
I told him to be simply genuine.
I told him *** is to love.
I asked him if he loved me.
He said, ‘Ami tomako Bhishon Bhalo bhashi’,
Which is Bengali for, ‘I love you very much’.
I creased my brows
And scorned at him saying that he’d just met me,
He said,
That was enough,
And that I was his own soul,
In flesh and Blood.
We made sweet sweet love,
That night.
All night,
On the cold floor of his shabby apartment,
On that sweaty night,
When power was never there.
I went to my flat in the morning,
I bid him goodbye by the evening train,
I never asked his name.
It was as if I had to know it later,
Not now.
Not today.
Not this week, month or year.
Just another age.
He never asked my name.
He must’ve felt the same.
For telepathy, never cheats.
Today, I wonder. I trip.
And I imagine him as all that I want,
For all that I know is his sweet puppy eyes,
And the ablaze heat that taught me that somewhere,
There lies a momentary passion bigger than me,
Inside me.
Waiting to burn, Roast and Shrink
My ego, my identity and myself!

She doesn't know she hurts me,
because she doesn't see my pain,
she never bothers to eaven  look at me
her gaze towards him always stays the same.

learning how to forget the pain caused is the worst pain of all

Once upon a time, in a land of shadows. There was a wolf born to a cave. His heart was good and pure. His eyes burned blue and bright. His name was Ranger. But Ranger did not choose his pack. His family. He was born to a Mother and Father wolf who had very little, the land of shadows had not been kind to them. For he would have had five brothers and sisters. But sadly all but the oldest was slain. Cut down before there time.

So as this young silver wolf was playing in the shadows and looking for things to fill his day his parents where teaching him to fight. Training his hard for the life he would endure. The woods where no place for a kind hearten wolf. Day after day they pushed him to be harder. His fangs growing sharper with every passing day. His other siblings struck down. When he asked why. All he was ever told was this is the way of the world son, You fight to live or you roll over and die.

Long did this time pass and he had grown to be a beast. I hardened scared wolf, fur black with blood stains. He was a monster like no other. Merciless he hunted alone, Never needed any one or any thing. He felt only rage and contempt at the world. For all the pain in him. All the hate he had felt. He was a wolf with a heart of stone

One day well travailing in the darkest part of the woods he would hear crying, whimpering in pain. Slowly keeping to the shadows he would see a young fox. Her body cough up in thorns. Slipping closer he investigated. He turned to the shadows and thought about simple walking away. But that cry that whimper, he turned back to see her. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her eyes big and blue sparkled helplessly in the shadows. Slowly he stepped closer, and dug in to the vines of thorns and freed the little fox and expecting her to run away in horror. How did you end up here he would ask her and to his surprise he she told him she was hiding from her family that had hurt her so bad. So laying down in the soft earth he wrapped her in his tail and gently licked her wounds.

When day came he found her again in the place she was last night, softly wagging her tail waiting for him. Fallowing him she would smile and hide under him and playfully jump on his back. Then as the sun rose she would scamper off to the field where she was from and every night she would find him. This powerful and deadly wolf.

Day by day and night by night she warmed his stone heart. Made it burn so bright and pure. His black blood stained fur became a bright silver as he stopped fighting. His deep red eyes burned blue. His heart had been saved and his soul little bit by little bit became hers.

Years past and there nights became routine but never dull. He would smile seeing her and would hold her so close. As the years went by he would notice she was no longer a little pup. She was an adult now. Sly and stong and fast. But her family knew of him. The stink of this wolf was all over her. They raced in to the woods finding him they ripped in to him. They dragged her away from him  as she cried out I Love Him. But they did not care. They knew wolves where not to be trusted and even tho his fur was silver, purged over the years of his cruel ways. The smell of blood lingered on him. Harder and harder they attacked him until she ran off. Under cover of moon light. Her eyes dripping with tears. Her heart heavy in sorrow. How could she watch as the family she loved worked hard to destroy the one who stood with her and kept her safe.

She ran and ran and ran. And even tho she is gone she can still hear him at nights howling at the moon. Howling for the love he lost and the pain he had felt. For he loved her as well and no matter how far away they are they will never forget those dark places that where there home.

I love you

I'm just an American girl
With a North Carolina soul
A Greek spirit
Two Egyptian eyes
A Tennessee heart
Spanish lips
A Southern body
An Italian attitude
A Washington mind
Three beautiful children
A Texas love
A little New York social skills
And a California childhood

to someone who has thought of themselves as a genius
their whole life long
there is nothing worse than knowing your own mediocrity