Alas my friend,
we meet again
as seemingly meaningful
butterfly kisses and dangerous pillow talk
turn to candle lit confessions
of past regrets and future sins.

Words whispered in the wind
float past my eardrums to beat upon my brain.
Like I'm insane I strain to strain
them out as scribbles, scrawled and sprawled,
over pages telling stories of painful ages
and chain filled cages.

Once upon a time's and used to be's
are not here's and now's.
But if ups have downs,
and smiles have frowns.

Then fortunately for my dark past behind me
I have blank paper in front of me
and I don't so much write, as

quite literally induce lucid memory with literature

only your mind can see,
in the deepest of its own depths.
More towards the chest.
Where shadows dance
like jesters, dressed to impressed her
with moves so fluent they flow like fluid, I can do it.

Plant a seed the size of a grain of sand and
watch it grow like a Beanstalk, talk
about power. Watch your watch
as the second hand moves like the hour.

Now you're in my time.

So entwined is my mind body and soul
every word I let roll off my tongue
is like foreplay to a *******.
And when I hit the rhyme at the end of the line,
its like freedom.

You sit here and bare witness to my words
climbing your defenses with the swiftness
of the worlds most ******* parcor.
So are your
thoughts that pure?
And are you sure you know how to endure
if they never find a cure?

With a view so obscured,
let me make these words clear.
I stand right here as all of your love as well as your fear.

Beyond the dark or the light.
I am the link between tranquil black and blinding white.
Even having no sight my words grip you tight.
And when my body is dead decaying and rotten,
like our children, they will not be forgotten.
Because words are the most immortal thing we've ever taught them.