It's must be love.
For I wokeup this morning with you on my mind.
It must be love.
I woke up this morning with a smile.

It's must be true.
Cause all my thought is of you.

Don't matter where I go.
Memories of you comes along.
Don't matter what I do.
It's solely for the love of you.

You push me.
You drive me to succeed.
And each and every day.
I'm not afraid to say.
I woke up this morning with you on my mind.

It's must be real.
Because you are here.

Does a man turn away from right and good
Brought to the fact of humility not being able to provide
Children crying day and night denied everyday necessities
A lack of pride in being a man among men
Perceived lazy by a society that never has been hungry

Does man lack character, ethics, and moral stability
On dark cold chilling nights with no shelter or stillness
Caught up in a fight for mere  wake in the morning survival
Things never perceived when childhood dreams were dreamed

When does enough become enough for you and I
How many go postal events or deaths in the streets
For the norm not to be normal in the sight of us all
Suffered long enough to bring suffering to an end
The level of misconception considered deeply

The intoxicating smell of cigarettes
Electric sounds of your fingers against the guitar
Looking into the glass in my hands
The swirling liquid like golden lights on a dark night
Words & giggles, laughter and silliness
This isn't me, not what I do
Good Sense, to thee I bid adieu
Take another sip to wash away any regrets

Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight
Looking up at the sky wistfully
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Oh please, make my wish come true tonight
Light breeze, curtain aflutter
I gaze out the window, singing to myself
Sometimes wishes made upon a star
Do see the light of day

Dream or drunken mistake or worse, neither
Now, awake and aware, befriending Nonchalance
Unwinding, like a stuck cassette,
Dim and hazy, that night I cannot forget
Detailed and clear – the memory
I just don’t want to forget
But that's all it'll remain
It'll be a secret, between Silence and I

If I knew then.
What I know now>
Somewhere along the line mistakes would have been made.
For, who hadn't stated one thing?
And done another after saying they have changed.

A constant cheater doesn't always change.
They say they will.
And go on by their merry old ways.

A constant liar begins to tell the truth.
But believing them means you must request some type proof.

Yes, mistakes we must learn from.
But there are times when you still fall into the same trap.
Even , if I knew then.
What I know now?
I might be able to apply some logic to not be let down.

We all are human.
And far from devine.
It's what makes us wants to do better next time.

19 years of boring days,
19 years of tears,
19 years of things drastically falling apart and never making any sense,
that is 19 years of trying to figure things out, like my body, and who the heck am I?
19 years of loving any guy who dare speak to me,
and 19 years of heartache figuring out that they didn't love me back,
19 years of dreaming and reading and wondering,
19 years of thinking, about everything really,
About God, and life, and why in the world am I here,
and 19 years of drawing,
19 years of human pain, like that time I had to get surgery for a broken leg,
Then there is a ton of mental and emotional pain, like heart break,
And other ****,
19 years of loving my family and friends for being there in my desperate times of despair,
And 19 years of not realizing that they were there the whole entire time,
19 years of trying to find my unrealistic and perfect Mr. Darcy,
which of course does not exist, well to my knowledge at least,
19 years of crushes on all the wrong guys,
And 19 years of never acknowledging the prime and proper ones who were gonna treat me right,
19 years of having to schoolwork, and now in college its more work then I have ever imagined,
And sometimes I just break down and cry because the stress of it all is depleting me of all my energy and time,
19 years of not knowing how to function around certain people, like at all sometimes,
And 19 years of having some of the greatest friends in the world to go out with on random nights to smoke hookah,
19 years of happy days,
And 19 years of having your heart ripped out of your chest and beaten on the side of the road until it can barely beat anymore,
19 years of having sucky days that make you want to jump off a cliff and **** yourself, or anybody at all really,
Like the first person you wake up in the morning and dares speak to you,
19 years of feeling tired, like every day,
19 years of eating delicious junk food, drinking water, laughing so hard I can't even breath, spilling coffee, talking so fast I forget what I am even saying and slipping up on everything.
19 years of foul plays and just really bad mistakes that you thought were gonna turn out good, but hit you really hard in the face,
So 19 birthdays to celebrate all these crazy and silly happenings that make me wanna go insane,
But I'm not so sure where I be without it all, without

Shelter me in a deep blue
Hide me in the ocean
Warm me in the light of you
Turn me to gold
Take the stars from my eyes
To see through black
Guide me to the one who knew
I cannot turn back
For the screaming is behind me now
Bathed me in dark red
And I know what it is like not to exist
The spectrum entered my world and illuminated
Every dreary place I once hated
The spectrum entered my world and illuminated
My cold, clear skin

Grey stone buildings jumble on the promontory.
White cliffs fall to the sea like a bridal veil,
merge with the blue waters of the summer season.
The land lies still, wanting, waiting.
Change of season late in coming.

Cisterns are dry, roses wilting.
A black clad woman walks the garden.
Dry leaves dance suddenly along the paves.
Her tongue licks the faint movement of air,
storm clouds gathers in the East.

After Vespers and Compline
the young nun enters her chamber,
opens the window, pushes back the heavy panes.
Sea fuses into obsidian sky.
Starlight dims behind racing clouds.

She sheds her habit for a white muslin sheath,
beds down on the narrow cot.
A slight breeze rolls over the window sill,
continues though the room, playfully
caresses the woman’s feet, licks her cheek.

A stronger gust follows,
pushes under her sheath,
waves up her inner thighs, caresses her belly,
rustles the stubby hair of her shorn head.
Her toes curl, knuckles turn white.

The storm comes suddenly and strong,
carries dried leaves of roses,
the scent of salty seas, fecund fields.
Her sheath pushed up around her waist,
an offer to a pagan God.

Window panes clank in protest,
waves crash against the rocky shore.
Clouds shed a load of steady rain.
The ****** sleeps, limbs askew,
until the hour of Aurora and Lauds.