Mud beneath our feet
Stars above our head
Wearing nothing but rain slicked skin
And frosted breath
You
Cannot keep your hands off me
I
Cannot take my eyes off you
We
Are two planets
In rotation
And neither of us
Can defy gravity

I'd phrase it as that I am trying to feed.
A man has to eat, eat.
When you take seat in a self placed aybss.
The only light burning is the one you reminisce.
Now days in front a furnace,
trying to resist the creeping darker forces.
Running you south, deeper down the forest.
Leading to your bliss and remaining torment.

When diving into my gaze immediate purgatory is immanent, understand the pressure is immense. 
Acknowledge this compression to the Earth. Imagine it made you feel more than a single scorch coal. 
Understand this heavy glare was seeing you for the jewel that you are.
You refracted light and casting sudden exodus to my darkest corners.
For the moment understood the twinkle in my eye, was you.

What is it to be lonely?
Does one get to a point where one's own presence become something to loathe?
Is it odd not to not to ache from this solitude?
I have heart grand amouts, but in those moments of silence and desolation.
I thrive in thought halting this worlds motion until the fading light if my vision cease.
Enveloped by what seems like darkness and stereotypical loneliness.
I feel more,
I see more.

Fighting handfuls of tiresome nights The plight of tossing and turning takes a yielding turn to my mind
Such repression pillows over my face
Reminiscent of earlier drawn into a daze
I exhale conscious inhale dreams begin a lovely pace and appeared
Upon the Subconscious
Guest in a house of woes and love without a mortgage with stories that fill books

Sara not so plain and not so tall
Daydreaming in the shopping mall
As blond as a summer day
Speaking of herself in a peculiar way:

"I'm pretty, yes, but I wish to be better;
To be the admiration of a love letter."

But her beauty is the kind that lasts
And makes your heart beat especially fast.
Finland born but London found,
Lovely, sure, but greatness bound.

And the nights grow more tiresome,
as her chest beats a tattered drum.
Her mood too dreary for speckled eyes
that will dim if night blurs into sunrise.

"Sleep why do you run from me,
as my memories grow.
Eyelids, be a blanket,
And melatonin, a pillow."

Victoria Lucas in her head,
as the bell does ring until fed
by the words that sound soft to us
but are actually strong and thus
she is misunderstood-lips are red-
Like Greenwood inspired, kissed dread:
She can save herself before jarred,
Before feathered, before tarred.

And it is my faith that lets me know,
That her happiness will one day grow
Because Sara not so plain and not so tall
Is the strongest of them all