Known across the seas as an adrenaline ******
Back home he was an academic flunky
Made famous for his seemingly infinite luck
Those who made his acquaintance considered him a schmuck
Owner of more scars than there is time in the night to tell
Females from his past pray for him to be swiftly dragged to hell
His only consistent lover resides in the starry sky
Even through the dripping blood, she still stares him in the eye
There are times where he simply and violently loses hope
But for this, his lover's cold embrace puts his heart back into pace
Although he is on his own for the waves running down his face
The brain behind the two sockets is stuck in an emotional rut
Ephemerally protected by a revolving door that he can't shut
Shielding the public from all these feelings by living on a whim
The sea quakes when it sees that horrifying grin
Seething with convulsing ire that no crew's captain can match
Heart reeking of despair from years chasing a feline he can't catch
**** it all back in, it is no longer he; only I
Apologies for the temporary eruption
The long term lack of your sweet fragrance often causes this corruption
If it is what you want, tell me to get lost because I know you aren't shy
At the end of our once in a moon meeting you can barely say goodbye
I'm not offering to be strong for you, but to be strong together
Side by side, there is no storm we couldn't weather
No force needed, our hearts will simply dance
Just once give our love a chance
No longer do I want to say I, let's make it we
Be my pirate empress and together we can sail the sea

i don't think that people are beautiful,
whether it be on the inside or the out —
rather, i believe that people have beautiful
moments, like when their eyes light up whilst
talking about their dreams and their passions or
when they are so genuinely happy that it even
makes you smile or when their heart skips a beat
when they realize they're in love for the first time
and the corners of their mouth automatically tug
upwards because it's such a good feeling

people are so caught up with aesthetics and
trying to be someone else's idea of beautiful
that they're passing up chances to be and
feel beautiful every single day and i think that's
disappointing.

I am a puzzle
Who's pieces all fit 'cept one
The one that does not fit
is not one but several
which one will be the one to complete me?

the complicated patterns here
that i've drawn into the snow
feel like a labyrinth
look like a puzzle
and i'm trying to find the answer
before the pieces melt away
and even though i know i have the time
this cold will stay, it's only december
i still feel like the moon's hands
are ticking, beckoning me
forward, telling a story
where i speed through the next few months
and arrive at that fork in the road
the numbers don't add up
there is too much here
too many words, too many pauses
too many buried feelings
and possible causes
of probable scenes that play out
in my head
and the figures just don't work
pencil after pencil
lead, graphite and ink
crumpled paper, metaphoric cinders
and this is when i realize
i have never been good at math
and now it's finally catching up to me
as i try to add
you and me
together
and the equation just doesn't work out

He was tired of the ordinary and he wanted something new.  
He wanted to hear the sound of the moon.  
He wanted to taste the tides.
     The sound of the cacti growing in the desert was like music to his ears,
but he could not remember anymore exactly just what it sounded like.  
He wanted to go back to when he did not have to remember
because he could hear it always,
but he could not go back.  

Time had put him where he was
and he could not turn back time, but it was not just a matter of that.
  He knew that somewhere he had lost his understanding of himself, and with it
his conception of the world
became skewed.  
He did not properly understand
the instrument with which he experienced the world
so he was not appropriately situated to judge what he experienced.  
Once he understands what he is
he sees his flaws.
he sees other things too.
    
The rays of the sun fell in a multitude of rays through the trees,
the canopies acting as a colander; taking up most of the rays
but allowing some to slip through
where small trees and shrubs seemed to congregate.
One of the rays fell on the boy
and as it did he opened his eyes
he was no longer a boy.

your brittle splendour
stashed passion
behind of beautiful iced eyes
your coldness is your hotness
just stranger wouldnt guess that
you care in your heart the hearts of all you loved
no one happy end throughout ****** dramas
you used to live in deluge of feelings
now the ***** is your friend which heal you
in your magnificent solitude
with bunch of drunk memoirs . 
you jeer on this young guy
who fell in love with you, elderly woman
now you cherish your sovereignity
and  no longer wish to be the muse of twisted masters