you are refreshing water to a parched throat;
providing a stinging remedy that works in a painfully slow way.
strangely, the ache is what keeps me going.....
the more it hurts, the more pronounced the longing.

maybe you haven't realised,
but you're the water to a desert:
so precious, so wonderful and treasured
running down my throat, so pleasured.

but maybe you're a mirage in a parched desert of all life devoid:
an illusion, so hopefully, deadly beautiful
for believing this is true: oh, what a fool!
oh woe; avoid, I say, avoid!

the imperative words fall on deaf ears,
as I plunge headlong and deep
into a never-ending abyss of quicksand
into the obliteration of infatuation!

The world is a mysterious place.
So much to see...so little time in which to see it.
Looking up into the skies...The moment strikes me.
I see the messages of invitation that the unknown plains
have called out to me.

I have had a long life...Yet, I have a lot longer yet to  live.
Now it is time for me to travel to see what this world has yet to give...

In sights and faces
People and places
Monuments and Music....
It is the force of true magic.

I take a deep sigh and come back down to Earth.
I become part of the current moment and then think
"Let's start this beauty in movement."

Written Destruction ,you know who you are.
      I know first hand you are scarred....
      Somewhere along the the way, you began writing   your days. With thoughts that consumed you, and built conflict within you.
  A love that was decieved by your very own beast.
And a soul intwined with evil. You wrote your first chapter, your journey has now begun. Savoring the memories with all the good times is probally why you keep hanging on. You my friend are dancing with the devil.  In your own words ,you said your a subject matter ,always gangster. Chapter 2 is through.
    You say the world dissapoints you. And may I ask why?
Is this the cause of a smart guy who wants to cry? In the dark of his own life .The vocabulary,  and your critical thinking is fading away everyday.
End of Chapter 3
    WRITTEN DESTRUCTION
Look and recognize,these are segments of your own life. You wrote your story, making your personal creation, and now you live in your own demise. You are ,your worst enemy. Your book is done. The x-men ,here they come....

Walking through the town today
I thought I crossed you on the street
With your sand storm hair and empty eyes
And anxious vagabond feet.
Your pretty teeth were crooked
Like bricks forced under pressure
Your shoulders, they sagged tiredly
Your head hung with displeasure.
My heart leapt at the sight of you
And music filled my lungs
With a longing to sing with the loudest voice
All the songs 'til now left unsung.
But when your eyes met with mine,
You were just a man I did not know.
Just a man, like the man I once loved
One thousand cold Augusts ago.

Some nights
I wake up at 4 am,
with the taste of smoke at the back of my throat

I swear to God,
you're still burning somewhere inside me.

Every mistake I ever made
Is like a knife in my heart
And if I'd count them
Hundreds would rip me apart