A lump of eminence
Swells in her throat,
But she swallows it down
Flashing a shiny, humble smile.
This wild dandelion grows in the sun
and dances to the beat of the wind,
Scattering seeds of peace
And songs of love
In every corner of the world.
She floats among the stars
Crashing perfectly into
Every illustrious constellation.
As she shakes the stardust from her hair
And dusts her glitter-speckled shoulders,
She reaps the benefit
Of her selfless, meaningful offerings.

She stands outside my blooming heart
and draws my soul with messy hands
paint mixed with my blood and sweat
blurring all the lines
bending all the rules

And she's not Monet
but she doesn't remember my face anyway
I'm just a shadow in a crowd
and just a paint when we're alone
'cause the sunny afternoon
doesn't last forever
whenever
wherever
the wind will take us away

This pen and paper feeds a hungry mind. A mind that's driven by thoughts that drive the deprived. The deprived mind is a mind which is filled with inconsistencies. Inconsistencies of ideas that were never finished. Finished ideas reap rewards only I can understand. Understanding the motives of finishing ideas is difficult for me to process. Processing endings for me is like trying to get a dog to chase an invisible ball. A ball which is full of non-existent closings. A close is something I can never agree with myself on. On the end of a page is something that never occurs to my mind. A mind that is deprived. Deprived like the end of th

When bad things happen, I know you want to believe they are a joke.
But life is scary and dark. That is why we must find the light.

It is a fallacy we all believe.
As we vehemently exclaim six words
to prove the chastity of our thoughts,
to fill our pride with self-validation,
to ratify our existence with falsehoods.
"The Devil made me do it!"

"The Devil made me do it!"
I bitterly laugh at your blundering gaucherie,
as you lay blame on an eons old transgression,
as you smote the sinnerman flying with flames,
as you called him out for your own actions
impassioned by heresy.

Impassioned by heresy
You sought to relieve yourself from perdition;
brought upon by perjury declared,
brought upon by authenticated truths,
brought upon by the duplicity,
of your favored reverent ideologies.

Of your favored reverent ideologies
which is to laud your skirmish against evil
in order to remove yourself from auburn eternity,
in order to induct you as a citizen of argent fields,
in order to orchestrate contempt towards another?
Is there no truth to you?

Is there no truth to you
now that perfidy imputes your entirety?
as you declaim in front of paradise lost,
as you coerce to regain what is rightfully deprived,
as you throng duress by intoning your delusion:
"The Devil made me do it!"

"The Devil made me do it!"
Its recurrence is maddening to Him
while you, in all your sentience, chose to act unbecoming,
while the celestials perched on your shoulder bawl,
while He that you blame does absolutely nothing.
It is a fallacy we all believe.

you have to fight
and make friends
with your mind
if you want to survive
and truly enjoy
every second
of a life
that you want to create
don't desecrate
your head
own it,
your friend

Look through my broken trunk of memories
Shuffling faded pictures of distant places and time
Those were the frozen moments
Captured by the flash of a Polaroid
Oh the good times, scattered but few

Lighting the flames to burn the past
Each moment, each word, each time

I want to scream
I want to cry
I want to freak out.
I want to live
I want to laugh
I want to love.
I am so insatiable,
I will probably combust.