Seek happiness and let love find you
for love moves like a butterfly
wildly, and unpredictable
and happiness is the flower she flutters to

A cigarette burns
between the lips
of a distraught boy
being torn apart
by his life
the pressure is getting
in his head
and he can not get out
of his head
anger burns like
passion
a passion fading
away like the smoke
blowing from his mouth

as we pass
we stare without a glance
two minds furiously putting together
different scenarios and odd scenes
yet are satisfied with silence
and two routes are taken towards
the common goal
happiness
we are all one
although we live like we are many

If I spoke my mind
I would not have a friend
If I spoke my mind
I would not have to pretend
If I spoke my mind
I would have pressed send
But I don't speak my mind
And that's a bad trend

Snakes, in perfect unison,
gather at my feet
We come for you
O, Desert Child
What brings you here
into the wild?
Is your pain great
and your fear mild?
Humbly, I reply
I've come here
to be reconciled

I want to be the hand you hold
when the world feels dark and cold,
I want to be the lips you kiss
and your feeling of utmost bliss,
I want to be the one you can go to
when nobody else can control you,
I want you to understand my heart
the way I recognize your eyes as art,
but most of all
I want to fall deeply in love with your mind
and constantly remind you how glad I am
You're mine

The way she looks at me is too striking
Piercing blue eyes engage in silent talks
And to her mind I've taken a liking
I hope and pray for the chance to trade walks
I want to know her heart so deep and true
To lay with her is the greatest present
And to hold her wipes away all my dark blue
Her smile alone is gorgeous and pleasant
Unlike most roses her stem has no thorn
Her red pedals reflect utmost beauty
For those against her heart I have great scorn
Her soul blossoms with no hatred to see
I will walk with her to the end of time
And will recite to her my poems and rhyme

your beautiful, crystal armor
will not shield your horrific soul
forever
for the thorns of your rose
are evident to those who look
past your gorgeous red pedals
and the ignorant are unaware
that your rose has been picked
and will slip into death's
significant touch

she walks on the tip of the ocean
kissing the mist as she shuffles by
o wondrous woman of the sky
to whom we go when we die
with beautiful ignorance
comparable to that of a fly