My love engulfs
everything it touches.
You could potentially become ash.

Like the sun, I stay
millions of miles away
so you won't be incinerated.

It just dawned on me.

This whole time
I've been trying to go up
unknowingly walking,
on the escalator that takes you down.

No wonder
life
has been at a stand still.
How else
could a person
walk in the same direction for years on end
without going anywhere.

Then
you have those people
who barely take two steps,
and they're there...
Makes so much sense now.  

Word to the wise -
walk a path
that's a little less
hi-tech.

Night time is
the time to be alive
a time to thrive
the time to be
everything yet nothing.
See,
at night time
many forms come about
but
without substance
they might as well be
an empty glass of water.

Night time madness
roars in the shadows
tip toeing between
shimmers of artificial radiance
followed by a maniac fever
that dances on the edge
of the incurable.
An influenza of self-indulgence
that leaves you in
a perpetual euphoria.

Those occurrences of intimate bliss
when your filled with so much joy and warmth
stumbling around lost in a love stricken daze,
euphoria is all that you know

And then suddenly, it happens
the shattering of the heart
broken glass everywhere,
each step becomes more painful
than the last

Even though the experience proved to be harmful
they filled you with so much elation, so much glee
that regardless of the previous agony
you eagerly seek to become lost in their warmth again

grey
the perfect way
to describe
today

it wasn't ok...

memories
please, fade away
let no remnants
remain

Each remembrance
of her kiss
leaves me in
an agonizing bliss.

Her passion and love, I admire.
It fuels and ignites
these chemical fires.

Libido
coursing through my veins,
engulfing me
in lust filled flames.

My love for her
itches at my flesh.
I can only suppress
these feelings
for moments
at best.

I'm forced to endure
for this is the consequence
of loving her.

I had hoped these thoughts
would've been sleep by now.

I wouldn't call myself a poet.
I'd say that my being
is constantly bleeding
varied thoughts and convoluted feelings.
And the only cloth I have to clean myself up with
is rhythmic metaphor.

The sake has lost its taste.
It's been had so often
the taste has become so common
that the experience has been rendered
tasteless.

Life
in constant repetition
losing site of true ambitions,
its flavor
can barely
be savored.

Wanting her
more than air.
Seeing her picture,
you pause and stare...

Time stands still.

In that moment
you become filled
with heartache and sorrow
because many tomorrows
lie between now and then,
until you get to see her again.

Eternity exist
in every second
your away from her bliss.