The hammock swallowed us that night in a cocoon of love, the crickets were as monotone as the symphonies of the love songs we've heard a thousand times before.
In my arms I held you, knowing that in a world of expressions all you wanted was acceptance, and after all the deceptions I just wanted to be the exception. You offered yourself to me in that space, a space where I didn't need to worry about being strong, in a world where strength mattered, all the weight of the world was lifted off my back at once. My head was clear, as clearly as you cried out, and the skies bathed our pale skin in its own mellow tint. You felt me for who I was, no preconception or misconception mattered in that moment, for you knew, as my lips passed messages for us, and only us, through yours, that no acid washed memories would catch up to us now.

It is odd for one to wish
to have skin made of crystals in order to captivate your interest,
an aroma that fills the air and lingers, so that an opened door tilts the head back,
a hazy effect on the mind and thought processes that leaves the thinker in awe of his own self,
to know one's worth, how much per gram of soul
and to appreciate their craving and need for you to be in the palm of their hand, or rolled up and inhaled euphorically.
It is odd for a flower to wish she were a ****, however, some gardens aren't meant to be watered, rather, they are destined to become forest fires.

A friend once said she wished she could get as inspired as I do sometimes,
And I certainly hope she finds her inspiration,
But never in the way I have.
I've found my inspiration in the gutters of people souls, myself included,
In witnessing the lashes someone can put in someone's spirit with their whips of words,
I've been the sufferer and the abuser
I found it in the anguish I came from, from finding a dying parent
Finding a quiet friend in a casket
From the brinks I brought myself too
It's tragic, I could never wish this on her
I wish her to find her inspiration humming from the strings of her guitar
From biting sips of wine
From a man who hopefully sees her as she is
And hopefully never from the abyss from which I take my chances
She should get hers from fast nights and slow dances,
From laying low in high places,
I think of you often,
By her I've surely been forgotten,
I wish the best,
But one thing I know is I'll keep the rest

You lost yourself somewhere along the way, somewhere as dreamy as the sounds you speak in,
We all do at some point, it happens,
Some call it growing up, I call it lying down,
I tried looking for what you lost in the wreckage of this town,
in smoldering piles of rubble and ash,
but nothing was to be found,
at least nothing that would last,
And now I see my Femme Fatale,
Lost in a mixture of sheets and other's ballads,
Come back to yourself
Not for me

Illness becomes wellness, when "I" is replaced we "we",
So let me cure our souls, let me lightly sow our seeds
The seeds grow as energy, in fields as far as the eye can see
The universe thanks us dearly, for only what we chose to be
We chose to valiant, like sunflowers that grew away from the sun
We bloomed still and shined like medallions, but never received any medals for something we won
So now you ask to start a new story, but my best chapter has already begun
Don't sever my stalk, don't talk when you can't walk,
For now that my field has been harvested, your shadow in my dreams I shall stalk.

Wake up and smell the poetry
In the crisp air of this new day
Don't you dare touch that electronic device!
Just wake up!
Fill your lungs with metaphors and figurative language
Breathe in the imagery
Breathe in the life of today
Look outside
And hear the birds singing to you
To hear their songs composed for those who must awaken
Wake up!
This is a new day
There is a song alive in each and every one of you
Wake up!
Fill your lungs!
Hear the poems echoing in your heart
And hear these sweet songs
Composed just for you...

A lonely man on an island,
Could barely stand on his feet, wasn't surprising
Cause life struck him hard, and quick like it was lightning
For him it was frightening
And on the last day of his life, he was even afraid of dying
He looked and realized he should have tried,
All those missed chances just flying before his eyes,
So death became more of curse but barely in disguise,
It made him wish that maybe he hadn't lied,
And maybe he shouldn't hide,
The boatman is here to take him to the other side,
So there's no more time
He didn't realize
That by the time everything was in front of his eyes,
He couldn't touch it