The times are a changing and with it people change too. There was this cosmic tool handed down to me and I am obliged to use it. The ancient’s voice their opinion through my being, I simply add the eyes that see the New Age approaching. The Old Trees and the land is shrinking and their cries fill my eyes with tears. The ghostly natives whisper wisdom in my nightmares of apocalypse. Their heart is the heart of Gaia and Gaia’s heart is having an attack. The blood of man has spilled for too long and I don’t want to use that as my ink. New face of war, technological war, info war, consciousness war.  
It’s up to the artist now to open the third eye. Whatever that Art maybe I hope its an Art that leads to peaceful freedom and if it doesn’t, it is the Art of death.  Battle of light & Dark.
The light in you will spark the light in others.

Little red circle lighting up the night.
Conversations lasting longer than your cigarette.
Bottled soul, your more passionate than you think, you'll let your mind smoke for the hell of it.
We share drinks until our lips get lit.
The unfit will be the last bottle drop, ignorant kids.
Forgotten teens that life neglected but were gifted. Forsaken but awaken.
Those that gave into personality shape shifts. Two older brothers still trying to make it.

My pen is a wand. It can write a curse or a powerful charm. My pen is a mirror. It can show you a monster or a beautiful figure. My pen is a key. It can free you from a trapped door or it can lock you inside that door until the oxgen runs out and you can't breath. My pen is a weapon.  It will fight righteous battles or make a gruesome dissection. My pen is a balancing scale.
It is a balancing scale because it tilts when the yin & yang of my being begins to out weight one other.
Nothing is safe from my pen if i choose it not to be, my pen writes freely without filters or censorship.
My pen is a ship in the sea unable to maintain equilibrium set on a course to land. One day it will stay still, but on that day my pen will run out of ink.

Tender touching on creamy silky skin.
Hearts pounding like jackhammers.
Sweat dripping, warm rain.
Sheets melting.
70,80,90,100 degrees celsius!!!
Pulses rising,voices rising, music rising.
White rose moving down your spine tingling your sensitive senses.
Oh how you sing my name, I hope this song never ends.
Loss of air, loss of sense of self, two bodies in one.
Rose pedals broken under two lovers forms.
Waking up in a rose garden to the sound of your voice.

She arrived mysteriously when the clock struck midnight on my dark rooftop. I turned and only her eyes glowed, they were inviting. I felt a seductive curiosity that compelled me to move towards her. The moonlight exposed her beautiful curse. She had black long hair like a black cats fur, red lips like they had been soaked in blood, and pale skin like that of a person who had seen a ghost. She said, "My name is Callidora, I will grant you immortality in exchange for your soul.” I shook in fear but her eyes said she could show me the world, what I desired the most. So I let her kiss me and lean toward my neck and bite me. We were flying in the cold dead air, taken from the living into something rare. My flaming soul in her heart now, my body reborn by her ****** saving kiss. She granted me the true gift of eternal life, a second chance that came at a price. I let her **** me for love because I wanted eternity with her.

The infinite movement of the universe expanding.
Time, the guiding phoenix.
Is it circular? Is it linear ?
Why is time endless but yet can vanish in an instance ?
Time, you hurry me with your impatience.
Why do we waste you time without caution in mind.
Will I continue to live once my time runs out?
Am I living right now?
Give me more Time.

It will no longer be a cycle, you going back to him and me coming back to you.
The chances I gave you were plenty, you’ve drained the last one.
You’ve done everything I told you, you were. You’ve dug your grave and I’m not going with you.
I’m not your stepping stone, your therapist, or the bounce back for your self-esteem.
I wont go back into a tug of war for you, it's worthless now.
Since in return I get only blisters and not some healing hands.
There is someone waiting for me, waiting to receive what you couldn’t see.
and if you come crawling back; I will not let you splinter me again.