This is for the all the wasted moments.
The moments I threw away to doubt and fear.
I’ve found a place to put them.
Today, I’m feeling a little different.
I’m feeling a little delicate.

I’m going to put those moments away, tuck them behind my mind.
I’m going to enjoy every beautiful thing we build together.

There is far too much real love in this world to pretend, and there are far too many good people in this world to defend - the bad ones. True passion is rare, protect it, don't neglect it, don't infect it and don't inspect it. There are only two things to trust, your intuition and your kindness, that's why you must, overcome the blindness. There is nothing more tender than the simplicity of living, we are given our gifts, but what have we been giving? Are we taking more than we deserve, using more than we preserve? Did we forget to say our daily grace, to say hello world, thank you for letting me face, another morning. Have we thanked the day for letting us see, another you and another me?

We sit around and talk about how the sky is falling,
How the world feels heavy and displaced every day
We talk about how our sky is falling,
Yet we move out of the way

We silently wish for a change to be made
We sit still as they commit their deadly sins
We search for some sort of meaning
Yet we never reach within

There are wars in our world, “but not close to us”
We talk about the news and debate over motives
But when it doesn’t hit home
The next day it goes unnoticed

So we still host our dinners, we write our Christmas lists
We change the station to music, we pour a glass of red
We talk about our day at work, we watch our favourite show
We kiss our children goodnight, we tuck them into bed

But there was a time those families did the same,
Wanted to make a change, but thought it wasn’t close
Until days later it really did hit home,
And it took away, what they loved most

The best things in life are the simplest things in life. The warmth of the sun through my window. The early morning breeze through my hair. The first sight of buds on a tree. The touch of my skin against yours. The feeling of holding your hand. The luxury of I have of laying in your bed… over, and over again. Knowing your love is available, for free, without ask, and made especially for me.

I am alive
Today, and in this very moment,
I’m breathing the same pattern I once did,
Before I met you.
Yet I am different
In this very same moment I feel lost
I can see the world, but,
I stand still in the corner.
I am lonely
So I reach for you as a friend,
I ask you to wake me up, inhale you,
And instead you lay me down
You are alive now
You are wide awake
You are brave, and bold, and intimidating
I once was brave, and bold,
And kind
You and I
We are similar, yet
Cannot exist together

With one eye open,
I see the world again,
Except this time
I am not lonely,
I am just alone
Without you
And I’m alive

or, alternatively
i can 180 it
and try it with you

I see myself differently, because,
when I look at myself - I see my scars,
my stories, my flaws and secrets.
you see the very least.

If I’m forgetting our memories I know you’re forgetting me; and that brings us further and brings ice closer. So please don’t freeze, let me know you let me remember the days where you’d talk about the ways of learning and friendship and although you never came on those trips … I know you wanted to …So who’s to blame in a time where everyone’s at fault but everyone’s okay with the result. Don’t freeze. Let me remember us as what we were and what we would become should our love not have come undone. Thicker than water is blood and we’ve been through the days of flood. Guilty tears. All the growing fears I’ve developed because of our loss and knowing our paths may never again cross. So don’t freeze. Stay close come home I have many stories to tell and questions to ask and I want to take off your mask. I wait for the day you’ll run away you’re the beauty of my heart come back and again we’ll start.

go to bed, young dreamer

follow those thoughts that bring you home
where ever it may exist,
not be in places that clocks are turning and time is burning,
close your eyes and turn your mind from the madness,
fall in love with your sadness...

Colours fade, feelings weaken, and clammy hands turn dry
People change, music stops, and purity finds it’s lie
The past repeats, the slide gets rusty, becoming too tired to try

New beginnings...

Leave that behind, grab that new frame of mind,
Sit below the soft sky and above the fractured roads
don't look down, just climb,
let the chapters unload

Replace panic with control
Inhale strange air and look the future face to face
Now, behind the wheel of the soul
Drive to that perfect place

Gather your baggage and abandon it, the fire will launch on own
Smirk at hesitation and glide past with pride
Welcome the unknown,
Enjoy the sting, enjoy the mess, enjoy the ride

Strength is found in the depth of pain, the place in which we all fear to face and struggle to remain unfamiliar with. When put in those moments and thrown into those obstacles, the body and mind have no choice but to react. We have the ability to train that reaction, to prepare ourselves for it.

What doesnt **** you makes you stronger, what makes you stronger makes you wiser and what makes you wiser prepares you - emotionally and physically.

When in tact with your own attitude and inner strength, you can build bridges larger than mountains and place them where ever needed.

Start building today, face your fears and flaws and get comfortable with that uncomfortable feeling. Sure, we can all live with the simplicity of an uncomplicated life - but where will we learn? Where will we grow? How will we know what to do when a burden is due?

Master your own weakness and watch how it grows into strength.

I am behind
the age of my skin
the texture of my lips
the length of my hair
and the colour of my eyes

for I am in
the age of my journey
the texture of my heart
the length of my knowledge
and the colour of my soul

in between all my uncertainties,
I'm almost sure about one thing
but I'm going back and forth between
a plan for my body and a plan for my soul
I'm beginning to lose sense of what's right
and starting to feel like it's wrong...
all wrong...
but how can a path so tempting be the same
path that would lead me to your mountain
of destruction and chaos
of beauty and delight

in between all my uncertainties,
I'm almost sure it feels right with you...

It’s not love until it hurts. My heart boils and with little bursts, it grows wings that crave flight. I’m leaving the fight, against what might, work and not work. I’m setting myself free for you, take me entirely, love me selfishly, need me excessively and consume my sanity. I don’t exist in time with you, I find myself looking…but for no escape, just looking – admiring, wondering, seeking more & more of what might be pain. The worthy ache. An anxiety I want to let in.

It’s not love until it hurts.

Sometimes, you just need to love someone without question.
Without questioning their worth,
their future,
their purpose.

Just love – that’s all you have to do,
for love makes someone worthy,
builds someone’s future,
and gives someone their purpose.

there's a hidden, empty place
between the conscious and unconscious mind,
it's a wallowing feeling -
a standstill, a little uphill
looking down on yourself
realizing the battle is nearly over,
ready for change
and you say
take me to be whole, entirely me
enlighten me

find in my mind,
a place to sip my drink,
don't even think, let my anxiety sink,
and like ink,
let the red trickle down my throat
like Stevenson wrote,
" wine is bottled poetry ", so I read
the letters filling up my need
my eyes are closed, I feel such greed,
proceed ...

a Parliament is between my fingers
my desire lingers,
the glow lights my coffin nail,
I inhale,
and it fills my body like a plug
akin to my favourite drug,
I forget,
what it's like to sweat,
over the little things
I've grown these wings,
I'm bursting of power and drive,
this taste and this pull,
have given something fresh to life

some say death is near,
but it's already here,
I've witnessed my own crash
one hand I carry my blood
and in the other, my ash

I bought a piece of damaged art.  Art so complex and abstract, with dark colours and rough textures, broken faces and trapped doors. What in past may have been innocent, has now become jaded, corrupted by ideas and devoured by hungry rage.  The tunnel of fate has flushed this paintings’ nature, seduced the purity of its essence.  A master piece has been morphed.  The price has gone up.  The wall space needed for this work of art would be massive, secure, and bullet proof.  The nails will dig deep, this piece will sooner or later feel heavy.

But the pride of showing off this commitment is precious.  It’s tempting and full of promise.  A piece so desirable and unique, others wonder how it was hung so high.  Like a crystal brick in the wall, so rare and contagious, persuasive and mysterious. Perhaps I fell in love with this foggy picture, I adjusted the lens of my perception - clarity now being a boring adventure.

So what stops me from taking this heavy, disturbing painting down?  Do I fear the ladder, panic I will drop this estranged beauty on the ground?  Maybe I enjoy viewing it from such a distance, I neglect what it really would look like up close.  I detach myself from its reality, only to live on in our own anxious dream.  For what exists in this fantasy, is not eternally destructive, it’s illusory and… incredible.

I know the day will come.  The day my walls wear thin.  The nails will get rusty and break, the painting will slip and surrender, and I will catch it… only to realize how much smaller and light it really is.  How beautifully innocent it has come to be.  Colours will be vivid, broken faces turning into blameless smiles, and trapped doors now unlocked.  With its temper diminished and bliss established, it will look vulnerable and foolish, not suitable for my passion craving mind. And I will take this small, uninteresting painting, and throw it away.

And look for a new damaged one to hang on my wall.  

And look for a new person to fix.

we used to find security
in blankets
acceptance
in our mothers arms
love
when daddy wiped away our tears
stories
on our grandmothers hands

and now we have insecurity
masked by money and clothes
we’re not accepted unless we have
a following, a brand
we’re told to love is to be weak
and what stories?
all I see is plastic in place of wrinkles

If I could create my ideal mannequin
I would allow her to bleed and breathe.
To be humble when she is envied,
to never feel worthless
when devotion is not returned,
because she would sense the superior.
The awful would not come near,
for her poise would craft a wall
so tall that they could never peek over...

Her skin would be of porcelain,
her cheeks a rosy blush,
her eyes would be the modest of green,
that could not be defined until they aligned
with someone as sincere.
Her lips of pastel pink dye,
could not be kissed until they beamed.
And the gentleness of her little hands,
could only be touched by the finest.

This mannequin would not fall short,
for she would possess what we all strive for,
she would keep what we all give away.
And her eyes would tear only when
they crossed the bright sunlight.

If I could create my own mannequin,
I would make her everything that we all desire
a little more of heaven, and a little less of sin,
a little more of truth and a little less a liar.
This mannequin would have the eyes that could see,
A little more of what this world could be.

The best things in life are the simplest things in life. The warmth of the sun through my window. The early morning breeze through my hair. The first sight of buds on a tree. The touch of my skin against yours. The feeling of holding your hand. The luxury of I have of laying in your bed… over, and over again. Knowing your love is available, for free, without ask, and made especially for me.

Feeding the little thoughts
The doubts
The dreams I'm lucid in
But for a second they wrap around me
They grasp me with their warm hands
Tell me there's more
More to this
Something magical could happen
If you just wake up and run

And I believe it
In moments of anger
On days I'm misunderstood
I believe it
When I feel stuck

Feeding the little thoughts
Giving them characters and stories
Taking away from my own reality
To fuel this dream

And I'm sinking
Sinking ship
I feed these thoughts
And you reach out
And you save me
Every time

A strange feeling of enlightenment ‬
Excites her when she gets close‬
He’s disregarded by very few,‬
Respected and held high by most‬

His thoughts are deep and fragile ‬
His presence is strong and sleek ‬
She felt it before, and feels it again ‬
With him, her worries turn weak.‬

His courage uplifts the world ‬
His passion; to live without regret ‬
She feels the balance and control ‬
How wonderful that these two have met ‬
‪‬
Together, arriving on a different level ‬ ‪
A million flowers have bloomed, eternity exists ‬
‪The aura around is beautiful and bright ‬
She feels weightless, he feels limitless ‬

And if somehow the world separates these two ‬
She will wake up again, and find him in fate ‬
For when her time is wrong, his time is right ‬
And nothing in the universe separates soul mates

you have stones and rocks to play with
clothes hanging from a tree
a *** of rice to portion
and you barely think of me

i have popcorn in my pantry
coffee ready to brew
clothes with all their tags on
and yet i'm envious of you

The tiny, timid man
Does not rush to catch his train,
He does not swallow before he chews
Does not look for others to blame.

The tiny, timid man
Does not reach into his past
He does not grip onto the present
Does not force a moment to last

The tiny, timid man
Does not clutter his free mind
He will not listen to every noise
And will not look for wrinkles and lines

The tiny, timid man,
May go unnoticed throughout the day
But this tiny, timid man,
Has found the tiny, timid way

The critter in my soul
Captor of my mind
Ocean in my world
Clock that ticks my time
~~
You

knowing you, and loving you
means that;
every sun that rises
and moon that beams
brings me purposeful days
and beautiful dreams

I’m meeting a new mystery
And it’s introducing itself with rage

Who’s to say what’s limited to me?
Why can’t I collect?
Why am I forced to shed skin I barely wore?

I want to wear you until you fall off
Through four seasons of the year

I want to feel you feed me your troubles
I want to fix you

And then

I want to feel you leave me once we’re done
I want to hear all your goodbye’s at once