i like to write in metaphors
but you're the one
i can't grasp
i just can't seem to find anything good enough to compare to you
my words fail me
and it occurs to me that all that is left
are my emotions swimming inside

It was like the first time feeling that burning heat.
shred my abdomen.
knocking the air.
And reason out of me.
Yet this impact riddled me further.
How had it become so mutilated.
deformed.
What moment exactly did people look upon me with such disgust.
That my very humanity was in question.
So much so that even my appearance betrayed my minds eye.
It is strange in a way.
Asking for anything different..
When these hands know well the path they carved before.
And an artisan I have become.
Only now.
Do they construct destruction.
Even as my back is turned.
I have been negligent for far too long.
Allowed my hands to remain shackled.
All for something I was..
Am.
Not going to let go of.
I shall ask for all the pain I have ever felt in my life.
Before I abandon this gift.
I stand eye level now.
Challenging once more.
Not only for dominance.
But for a peace that I have yet to feel.
I may never see it.
But perhaps I have yet to truly open my eyes.
With this second wind.
I shall show just what it means.
To call upon the storm.
And shatter this meaningless mirage that has polluted the air.
Contorted minds.
Nearly even broken wills.
I did not grow fangs to have them go unused.

I never wanted to fix anything
Observing your essence flow endlessly
Fixated at the ways your hair will fling
Transformation has occurred mindlessly

A fierce devotion which remains unseen
Visibility not being the goal
Any motives inside my mind are clean
Emotional releases I control

Purity does not equal completion
When I witness short beautiful cycles
I feel nothing stronger than devotion
And I abandon any recitals

Experiencing wonderful magic
Unrequited love is not so tragic

© Christopher Chronister 2016

My eyes are in leather sheaths because they have to be
Otherwise, my emotions would be so plain to see
The only thing that gives me away is my mouth that spills the words that will be the unrelenting death of me!

The depth of me?  I don't know man!  You tell me, because all I see is your face staring back at me;
cold truth with a sprinkle of angry
and a dash of salt.  The full moon is the only time I can blame it on lunacy,
otherwise my crazy sticks out like a hot **** on a cold day!

Why do I do this to myself?  Because it pains me if I don't!
Besides, I love to imagine that look on your face when you read me
somewhere between that guy falling off his bike and your mom's new brownie recipe.
Ba ha ha ha!  Seriously though.  I don't care what you think of me.

As long as when I speak, you think at all.  That makes me happy.
That gets me through my day.  If you're gonna walk around with your ******* face glued to your phone, might as well read something that made your brain hurt a little, *****!

Peace man, be easy...

They say a poet should not cultivate sentiment
But I will not be wrong to cry with someone
Nor to smile for the fact that we met again
For though I could describe flowers
I’d rather hear your deep sighs
And even if I must wait
I will not be still waters dying under the sun
For if your heart is ever cast before another
I will be there if he walks over it
Telling you never to vow away love
You were made to try again
For your failures are what new rivers seek
Born from tears raining all around you
To fill your heart again before you put it away
Forever
Because what I want is to tell you that I love you
And I don’t care who knows
Or thinks
About how I say it
Or show it