If I was
sharp,
I wouldn't
have been this blunt....

We are stars in the sky, for each
shining beacon is a spirit up high.
Gleaming with the purity, now it
has left its mortal coil behind, for
if you ever lose that one close or
some one known, they are still
watching you from up high.

They are seeding the skies to light
the earth from above, never moving
guiding those below with there eternal
love.

They illuminate the skies, so we are
never in darkness, that there will
always be a light. To show those who
are mourning that there spirit is looking
down shimmering in the heavens.

For no one is really lost, they are just
on a journey in the heavens, and will
always shine there love for you from
above. If ever in doubt look to the sky
and see that one twinkle that is them
shining there love.

The hands of time a guillotine
on my life, counting down my
limited existence, in seconds
counting down from birth to
that second my life ends.

As it comes down ending those
moments I called my life, time
never counts up it always counts
down on everything in life.

The clock ticks away, never waiting
it continues to move on, like a
guillotine the hands come shapely
down, then a last breath as time
ends my life.

The hands of time will come down
on all, from the smallest to the
largest things in life. Live what
little time you have, before the
guillotine comes to collect, when
there is only seconds left of this life.

Why do I have to be like you
a copy, I don't wish to be, I'm
dragged down in your image
I want to be myself not a copy
of you or others I want to be
myself not you.

They look with disappoint, of
who they think I am, thinking
I'm you.

A copy of a life not my own, a
mirror image of two, who want
to be themselves. To be free,
not labelled as the other independence
they want, individuality to walk
there own path not labelled like
either or one just me.

The world talks in whispers, but
to loud for me, I cant catch a
breath I need to breath, whispers
deafen me.

I wish for silence in a world of
noise, words pierce me like knifes
cutting at me I feel like I'm going
out of my mind.

I can hear you from here, thoughts
shout out louder then your mouth
speaking words.

I wish for silence, to loud is the
world around me, why does every
thing have to vibrate through my
mind. An echo chamber for the world
around, I just wish for a world
of quiet thoughts within.

My fingers caress your body
like a paint brush, I paint each
part slowly to know the points
which are the sensitive to my
brush on your canvas skin.

My lips are the red, they touch
your canvas slowly, as I move
over it goose bumps and moans
as sensitive parts are touched
skin to lips the canvas reacts.

I dip my fingers in to your awaiting
paint box, your ecstasy as my
brushes slowly dip in and out,
I dip once more and lick the
tips a taste of perfection now
painted on my lips.

You are my canvas of sin, I will
paint pleasure on your skin, my
fine brushes are lips as they
caress the canvas and my fingers
are the the hard brush strokes
against your flesh as they dip in
around your paint box my fingers
tasted your pleasure within.

You are my naked canvas, that I
will turn in to my master piece of
pleasure, skin to skin are paints
will mix and pleasure is our brush
stokes on each others skin.

Your loving smile
melts the pains of
the day away...

She has sewn with love
patches on my heart,
covered those holes made
by others in my past.

She was gentle, dabbing
it with kindness, removing
the shrapnel of betrayal
that had put so many
holes with in my heart.

She sewed it with a needle
of love, she put feelings
in the patches that soothed
the rough parts so the
patches laid soft.  

She had been gentle from
the start, to patch up the
holes from my past. She
had left a patch work patten
on my heart, for now love
could enter ,this was no
longer a heart with holes
but a patch work design
that was sewn with love.

My demon stays silent
He has nothing to say
If I allowed him to speak
You'd only run away
So when I'm asked "are you ok"
Silence is the stern reply.
Quiet, peace, dumb, mute
Blank, impassive, soundless a
Demon tamed by having nothing to say

I have it, so do you ,
that bug that gets under your skin.
It itches when it first bites,
then it latches on with all its might.

With hope that its little pincers will inject
its drug in to you. ya may itch, may come
out in a rash, heart beat fastens this
funny feeling that comes over you.

Am I infected I have feeling coming through,
It only takes one bite for the stubborn hearted
maybe two. But when this little bug does coming
it after one thing only to infect you.

We all get bitten at least once in our lives,
its the bug who chooses not me or you.
The words will follow after time,
the itching calms down,
but then I will say to who gets bitten,
"I love you, and you say it back *"baby I love you to.