The lost congregate
a lodestone of despair
draws them together
all that could be said
to make things better
sleek shallow lies
dry crumbling mortar
howling chaos beckons
beyond walls of order
at the unhinged door
a legion of wolves
refusing to be tamed
snarling and ripping
at what little remains

So pleasant was the weather
a summer spent together
she's *****-trapped with pleasure
sensations in great measure
To you, she was a treasure
but today there's nothing deader
than the tingles in your head or
the fantasy to wed her.

Tell me of her touch
like earthquakes in foreign lands
that you can feel between
your legs
like ocean water churning, churning
falling upon you when you're burning
from a sky so vast, it seems
that your dreams are pauper's dreams
She's like that same sky in the night
so dark... so bright
your eyes are alight
with infinity in sight
and you take a bite
of her honey cream thighs
you feel alone
and then she sighs
and you are responsible
it's like some living math
you plus her
in a bubbling bath
equals roiling memories
that cage as much as free,
freeze as much as warm.

What choice do we have?
Life is a choice of slave masters...
Be enslaved by love,
or dominated by hate:
either way, there's pain.
Either way, there's a rain so fierce
all the world is swept away,
but you and she, she and you,
you can never be erased,
for you are not earth and tree;
you are not river and rock;
you are spirit:
a thing proved unconquerable by death.

So, after life, when there is time to linger,
think upon the touch that tingles.
Heaven waits for all men,
each woman a
piece of
it.

Now that we've exposed the existential farce of Satan,
It can be said Man created the devil,
Not as a god but in our own wretched likeness,
With no scapegoat for our innate commitment to evil

Inherently malicious with Benevolent aims,
As we wonder, we wander, and unwillfully wane

We are just sitting and waiting.
Waiting for our lives to begin.
Our standards are too high.
The stories we hear are too grand.
It's some days we see our lives are going no where frighteningly quick.
So we try and ***** out the "normal" like flame on a wick.
We are hungry for adventure and end up starving.
I've asked myself numerous times, "Why not me? Why?"
I see the same look though in everyone else, I see the "why" in their own craving eye.
No one gets a story. No one gets a tale, and the few of us that try only get new tears to collect for lost dreams.
You can thank the silver screen for this stigma folks.
We shoot for the stars and just look like jokes.
So don't keep trying to one-up reality.
We're all here for the long run.
If you keep on trying you'll end up like me.
All I have is a cocktail of confusion and sadness in the cavity where my heart was yet now I place my lack of purpose.