Why are these dreams broken?
when all these words are left unspoken.
Uncertainty killing those who care inside.
They are left to rot, left to die.
Why are their faces filled with sorrow?
They see no light, no tomorrow.
They beg and they plea.
Only to see cruelty.
Why do the stars fade from our eyes?
Is it because we are slowly dying inside.
Why are you sad, why can't you breath?
You are drowning in sorrow, please don't leave.
Why are we abandoned and left to rot.
Never to leave stuck in this spot?
Why do our nightmares overcome our dreams?
Because can't you see.
These dreams are broken, they are left unspoken, by me.

when the darkness prevails,
everything suffocates you,
you try to live but you're not 'living',
not even the slightest.

this tiny window of light,
you found one day,
holds much joy to your unsightly livelihood,
holds much salvation to your hopelessness.

[how long could you hold on,
before it loses its light?
how long could you breathe,
before you feel the grip of life on your throat - squeezing the life out of you]

for all things have an expiration date,
and happiness is momentary.

Face me...fixedly eye to eye, four hands intertwined in infinite reciprocation, articulating...

Osculate my mind with your intellectual parlance, ardently and with hedonistic electricity arousing my neurons, titillating my synapses, sending lustful charge down my nerves.

I crave to feel your utterances surge through me,  course throughout every bifurcation, and transude from every last pore of my flesh.

Grasp my heart with your loquacity, embracing so passionately, that our beats become one resonating cadence whilst exchanging harmonious rhythm.

Caress my flesh with cognital poetry woven from emotions existent only to us.
Trace my veins with every word born from pain, contentment, angst and tranquility... pressing their vehemence into my bloodstream, surrendering my pulses to ******.

I yearn to listen to you make me moan, as I arch my back, tilt my head and release in silent screaming ecstasy... sating you with visual affirmation of our sapiosexual affair.

In the dark, yet the glare burns my eyes.
Silence, yet the screaming won't quiet.
My body is still, yet writhing in anguish.

Darkness, silence, stillness... This is the battle.
The old familiar lullaby of numb.
A beckoning finger, seducing me to depths of pitch black on a starless night.
I could sleep if the air wasn't stale.

I've been abandoned,  yet I refuse to be the abandoner.
I cannot give that pain away. It is mine to own.
I am surrounded by love, yet alone every direction I reach.

Abandoned,  pain... refuse, love, alone... Fight.
I cannot be selfish. Redirection is the only option.
I will not let go. Hold the pain close, never kiss the love with its sting.

Fight. With what weaponry? Armed with pain. Reaching, grasping for hope.
Protect the love. Do not let it fall to my fate.
Rebuild. Pain is my weapon. I could cause such harm,  shove them all away.
If only I could reach, yet if I did, I'd take the pain from them, protect them,
And sacrifice myself to no end, but an endless cycle.

Fight, protect, rebuild... armed with who I am.
Gather the pieces.  Put them together. Never in original form.
New stones, fresh mortar muddied with tears.  Reach, to find each stone.
Drag it into place, carefully stacked,  meticulous placement, calculated.
Construct not to protect me, not to hide, but to keep the love out of harms way.
Without love I am nothing.
Deny, refuse nothing.
Arms open, eyes wide.
Fight, for everything.