I know you’re tryin’ hard to resist me
Or maybe it’s not so hard at all
I just know that you tempt me baby
And I’m tryin’ to make you fall

You need to quit thinking so much
And talking about one night stands
There’s always a first time for everything
And that’s not always where it ends

There’s always a first time
But it’s about to walk on past
We need to get things started
Even if it feels too fast
How can we know for sure
If tonight will be forever?
That’s what love is all about
The risk is part of the pleasure

You say no but you don’t walk away
You like to look and listen to what I say
Maybe it’s only what your ego wants to hear
I’ll be around until someone else draws me near

There’s always a first time
But it’s about to walk on past
We need to get things started
Even if it feels too fast
How can we know for sure
If tonight will be forever?
That’s what love is all about
The risk is part of the pleasure

Hold it fast
There is a current pulling
On the other end
Stay true
And that gold thread
Will shimmer through all that blue

He is not invincible
He is a word
And as sure,
As language trends
Man is a word
That changes with ends

An imprint in the dust
Tells a story, it must
So it goes on, the impression
Shifts and sifts in fission
Each syllable a worthy mention
Every step, a tale of tension
Lifts, begins- drifts and bends
To a point where inertia lends
A new start and a chance to turn,
Yet reward of light is where we yearn.

What of that reflective string
The last buried piece of shining
Trail has led your heels astray
There is no sand or dust that way
Only the feared fabled deep blue
Calm palms and toes can still walk through

Hold it fast, and forget our steps
Let them thread a new friend's depth
And when current grips in cold death.
We may dance with it, in a simple breath.

i am of the light
despite
my shroud
that crowds the villains in the toppled telemetry of my steeds
galloping gallantly from the burning cities of my dreams

i shall gleam from her or he
that which delivers
their truths faithfully to their dreams
open wounds turn invitation
in the pity of hungry thieves
who dared to dream
of peasants king-ed.
as we sing
sing
of desperation
in passionate confessions
of jaded wisdom
passed on through every failure
never to falter
in the betrayals of Walters
lost
in loss-less flac files
i have miles to go
smiles to grow
daggers projectiles
from mild mannered children
freshly ridden
of maniacal miracles
spiritual
but not stupid
we are troopin
this lucid movement
grooving
to the repetition of the drum
the gas blow back of a gun
the bursting bubbles of bubble gum
having fun
i learnt goodly on the run

learned nothing in victory

learned nothing in simplicity

complacently

snickering it all away
bullet by bullet
case by case
and eventually the blade
in my compassionate displays
we shall congregate
and hate ourselves
**** the donks to hell
dwelling on the cellar doors
that darkos teacher adored
in verbal massacre
of the written literature
of cracked brain fixtures
seeping the lines
in cold tingles
down the spines of maniacs

just relax

mix it down on a track
spit the thesis into pieces
through the creases of cracked sneakers, and out the speakers
of trouble seekers.

mistakes make us

deliberate chaos
tossed  
upon the fakers
who cry to think
the dream
became a reality
mistake us
for serrated blades that rip the hearts from beasts
sometimes i stop to think
while having a drink
conclusive brinks
of sanity creaks
of my humility
secreting
frivolously
the disposing of my jealousy
of your feelings

hellaciously
i rip a felony
from a face
in appealing agony
antagonizing me
in the frenzied forensics
of my oblique
outlooks
none of us
were ever crooks
speaking to self
while being booked
in hell

Sock-less in the winter turned
spring for fear of
                  freezing over

      every inch of
          things you treasured and
  couldn't wait to leave behind

              just months to go and
still
no snow-white to
build upon blazes
that come with new faces
and
kindle friendships as
roads are
dubbed exceedingly dangerous

time is a friend to those who
tri-p-let their way to the flatness of
it all, world and walls waiting
for a




break in the traffic


waiting for a sunspot in the year's
star mural,
                    wandering in parking
                    lots where people hint at that
mysterious intersection of dreams
and the sensory