Touch my skin you ***** rascal
Touch mine and leave your mark.
Cook me with your radiance, let me feel your hands
As they run all over my exposed shoulders, waist, knees, and flip-flops.
Sunspots and freckles.
Burns and chapped lips.
Sunglasses and fenced pools
In the desert.
The cactus, the scorpion, the sun.
The dust in the air is better than oxygen.
And I sit for hours with nothing but love in my heart
For the heat that burned away the hate in my soul.
Sunspots and freckles like kisses from the sunshine
Drying me off in 2 minutes flat.
Hydrating the desert in my soul.

Oh how I tire of the games that are played.
The useless lies veiling truth.
In shrouds of weakness.
How the fear overcomes reason.
Foolish as they can be.
We allow their fantasy to remain.
Standing our ground.
Holding strong to what we know.
Waiting with patience and persistence.
As we always have since the beginning.
Maybe once they open the blind eyes.
To the reality presented before them.
They'll see how to mature and evolve.
Into a superior being.
Only then will they learn true happiness.

Where goes the time when it flies?
Simplified by expression, and stained by clarity.
Smudge by lucidity
smeared by simplicity
tainted by intelligibility.
Tempus fugit as in time flies.
Sharply distressing with painful feelings
to the point of mental instability
morning or night
we become possessed with its mystic dealings.

Where goes the time when it runs?
Not a solitary explanation is found.
It happens and it won’t stop
until life terminates as well
without cause.
Derived of rationalisation
lacking understanding
short of justification
bursting with vindication
persistently and with conviction.

Where goes the time when it sails?
From the second that we’re born.
Where were we existing?
We cannot be so sure
Cannot recollect the past
Not for the first five of our years
Memory so blur, so shadowy
Hazy with distortions
obscure and confusing
Unit our mind starts slowly to recollect.

Where goes the time when it escapes?
The chronology of life so mysterious.
Nothing can solve its ambiguity
for time is a complex case
with an infinity of secrets.
What’s the obsession when we have so many setbacks
drawbacks and obstacles
obstructions and conundrums
to take care of before time perishes away
and leaves us stranded in oblivion.

Oh time, you magnificent of all mysteries,
the high and mighty of ambiguities.
Show us mercy and explain
we are not detectives of secrecies
your spell with us reflects on the whodunits.
Oh time of things past and yet to come
give us a clue as to what is to derive!
“Remember”
it softly replies “Make most of your lives”
“Once I fly away no one can have a replay”.

They say you hurt
The ones you love
The most.
I wonder how true
That must be.

I can't even bear to think
Of hurting you.
Yet you give out hurt
Like its a hobby.

With all the pain
You've put me through
You must love me
More than I could ever
Love you.

It burns. So deathly excruciating.

It's like a never-ending, heart wrenching feeling, that separates all other emotions, all other pains, and all other scars apart.

That feeling of regret and fallen memories, colliding with each other and dragging you down so low that Hell appears to be Heaven.

Why? Why after so many years?

After so many others have managed to steal my heart, even if it was just for a moment.

Why? Even though I know those days are over, that they could never begin again, that there will always be a broken link and I will always shatter, fall, and crumble once more.

Why are these emotions still here? Why do they linger like a black cloud, suffocating me and chaining me down like a wild animal?

I know that you are only a memory, so then why are you still here?

Why do I think about you, dream about you?

Why even though I know all of your flaws and your undeniably inexcusable actions do I grip at my heart and say "I still love you"?

Even though time after time I have told myself the very opposite.

Time and time again I have banished you from my life and yet hoped there was still a chapter left of this dark story.

Why after so many countless times where I have been defeated by you, where I have fallen once more for the ****** games you play,
twisting your black fingers around my spine and seeing how far you can go until it breaks?

Why do my forsaken eyes mistake you as an angel, when you are the devil himself?

Must I continue to have hope, wishing that I could try again, even though I know you're going to once more watch as I lose all sight of the truth?

Sinister and vile as you are, relish in my delusional state, knowing you have me in your claws which scrape at my back and leave scars that not even God could heal.

Do you even know how disgusting, how sickening and maddening it feels to know that you can't even see the pain you have inflicted on me? Sure you can see the bandages, but are you really that blind to the truth of their nature?

How deep these scars truly run? How badly and desperately I screamed and begged for help inside as you dug your claws into my flesh and carved them out yourself?

Can you not see the depression, the hopeless battered soul seeping through my eyes?

I pretend I am strong. I live every day breaking at the cracks and somehow manage not to collapse into a pile of broken pieces.

Tears are dried out and the ache of a heart that has been stomped on so severely that it bleeds gray is only a small burden compared to all of the rest.

I walk on a path where there is a light just in reach, but the path vanishes once you have come close enough to that hopeful light that you can brush it with the tips of your fingers.

Do you have any idea what it feels like to look in the mirror and have to remind yourself every single day that you were never good enough?

That you are a wasted canvas, painted beautifully at first but then crumpled and thrown out because you never had a chance at being satisfactory.

You will never understand that my own emotions are poisoning me.

You have grabbed at my throat and shaken me so violently that I am unable to move, paralyzed in shame. Paralyzed in sorrow.

And yet, as I look into your eyes, I am mesmerized by your face, I fall into a trace, trapped in your spell. Trapped in this deadly cycle.

You have dragged me down into this pitiful thing. This choking, lifeless relationship where I struggle to stay alive while you climb higher on your pedestal.

And despite my previous errors, I willingly fall into your hands. Blinded by the false light you shine above your head.

I liked the way it felt
inside you,
curled like a cat
  
it was hot so
I was sweating
   which may sound gross but
  it was hot so
you were sweating too
and my sweat
    mingled
with your sweat
and became us-sweat
and we both knew that it was hot
and sweaty and gross
   but
inside each other we were comfortable
so the
    us-sweat was okay

until the morning came and with it
fear and silence and the us-sweat
became
        me-sweat on you
and  you-sweat on me
and I just wanted to jump
into the ocean
  because the
ocean,

when you think about it,
is really just a giant ditch
filled with salt water which
  is pretty much the same
  as sweat except
  people don't think it's gross
so in the ocean no one
cares whose sweat is whose

and maybe if it
had been just a
little bit cooler

  I could have stayed
forever inside you,
        my breath
trapped within the mercy of your body

the burnt orange couch reminds of late nights past

the scattered papers and the whirring of my brain trying to think through you

and lost i have been in your words and numbers

from this peril tears unheard

and i gaze into your depths have you yet but one regret

for the torture that you give the sleepless night that i have had

the sacrificial lamb i have become on your behalf

and to this beauty of deep burgandy a wish for it to cease to be

your wisdoms i might need much later but i would rather avoid them at all cost

yet you persuade me that they need not to be lost

and as tommorrows time will pass these 7 parts of you will fade

my mind will not remember or care to think of you again

but nuisance as you might be a weeks worth time and you will beg at me

for my memory for my care - this is no love affair

i will never love you so you are a book

and I …. no.

and while you contain what i must know i will never worship your insides

no rhyme will do you justice to show my dislike for you

chemistry this love will never be true.

My walls are crumbling down
And I'm not stopping them this time.

Because nobody appreciates
how hard I try to keep them up...