Found myself crying
Holding your book
Reminding me that i belong to you

I can still trace,
Where his hands were last night,
I can still picture,
His chest and how it felt,
I can still taste,
His *** growing in my mouth,
I can still feel,
His body perched up on me,
I can still recall,
His voice, grunting in pleasure.

But his face I can't remember,
Neither his name I could tell.

The ship is sinking
and the women and children
are still on board,
but the lifeboats have been taken
and the ******* Captain,
he ain't letting any more board.

One day soon
in this unknown country
where our dreams shout
and jump ship,
a train will come
and it will arrive full-steam
ahead, and full of resisters
looking to take the Captain's head.

Jfksoznaba;;1-66

I've  just smashed my keyboard to smithereens to depict anger, I've plugged in my old one now. I thought the other would survive longer....

A fruitless endeavor.

It was almost 10 oclock, their eyes heavy as rocks, Erik and Jamal headed home
The fork in the road that they've always known to mean they tread on all alone
They made their embrace and started their pace and Erik did not hasten much
Jamal however was quick to endeavor, because mama had told him to rush
They walked their separate ways, reflected on their days, and coveted what tomorrow would bring
At that very moment, their train of thought stolen, by the bellow of sirens they sing
A large police van rolled upon each young man, and flashed a light on each of their face
They told Erik hurry, his mom needn't worry, yet they questioned young Jamal's pace
They told him get down, he got on the ground and struggled in his discomfort
Erik heard a bang in the night, that had gave him a fright, and thought to himself where'd it come from?

Now that we've exposed the existential farce of Satan,
It can be said Man created the devil,
Not as a god but in our own wretched likeness,
With no scapegoat for our innate commitment to evil

Inherently malicious with Benevolent aims,
As we wonder, we wander, and unwillfully wane

A petty foolish man holds the diamond in his hand,
At less allure and worth than the opal in the sand

Dear Father,

It is with an intoxicated, profound, and perhaps misled familial respect and gratitude
That I write you and I ask of you
That you assess your cavalier attitude
On your own life and widespread dissidence you feel
For when your recklessness kills you and I am to serve you leal
I would be disingenuous to gaze upon the eyes of all your peers
And not deliver an encomium weighted by your grievances and jeers
So if you must die, please give me explicit instruction that you have cured your lover's quarrel with life and it's inhabitants
If you cannot I will stress the points of your plight with an unrelenting adamance

I have the honor to be your obedient servant,
M. Whit