Addicted to You

I have a terrible addiction to gambling with your love
The stakes are high, the risk so sweet
Every bet I place, I long to win your heart
But with every loss, I feel another tear start

The thrill of the game, the rush of hope
Keeps me coming back, unable to cope
I'm locked in this cycle, a prisoner of desire
Addicted to you, my burning, consuming Crimson fire

Another Miserable Tormented Soul

Darkness engulfs his mind, disgusts him
Trapped in Satan's domain, twisted thoughts
To suffer for all life, until a miserable death
To suffer for his thoughts and actions, a truly unforgivable mistake

Sincerely~a someone who knows the truth~you waste of space

I lost myself in the most
pathetic possible way,
I will never be able to handle
losing myself.

But in the midst of darkness,
I found a glimmer of light,
a moment of grace that whispered,
you are more than your flaws.

I may have lost the old me,
but the new me is still growing,
finding strength in vulnerability,
and resilience in the face of loss.

So, here's to the journey of
losing and finding oneself,
for in the broken pieces,
we discover our truest beauty.
~
Dearest reader ;
I know it's unbelievable, unfortunately we have to be able to handle this inescapable truth :

We
Have
Worth

Innocence is Lost

The sun sinks low
Casting long shadows
A farewell to youth
As innocence departs

Fading like summer
Leaves changing color
Gone with the wind
Lost to the passage of time

But within this loss
A seed of wisdom
Planted in the heart
New growth from old wounds

Though innocence fades
Its memory lingers
In the beauty of scars
And the strength of the soul

We reunite together under this moonlight forever ourselves but never understood by the youth

Riddles twist and turn
Words dance in perplexing ways
A maze of meaning

Tragic Life | Lifeless Accomplishments

Ah, how tragic life is so pointless and unforgiving,
A dark and dismal journey, through which we are driven.
The weight of sorrow, the burden of despair,
Never ceasing, never ending, a relentless snare.

In the shadows we wander, lost and forlorn,
Seeking solace, seeking meaning, from dusk till dawn.
But alas, life mocks us with its cruel deceit,
Leaving us to suffer, in silence and defeat.

Yet still we press on, in our futile quest,
For a glimmer of hope, in this endless unrest.
Oh, tragic life, how bitter and unkind,
Leaving us to wonder, what purpose we might find.

Desire Disgusts Even The Likes of Me

The moon, shrouded in a veil of clouds,
Cast a pallid glow upon the scene,
As they, haunted by their own yearnings,
Found themselves entangled in its embrace.

But lo, as the shadows lengthened,
And the air grew thick with unease,
They recoiled at the touch of desire,
For it was a foul and wretched thing.

It was a night of eerie whispers,
When desire, with its tainted allure,
Crept into the hearts of those
Who feared no sin, no darkness.

Even those who knew no fear
Were repelled by its twisted form,
And thus they turned away,
Leaving behind the stench of their own loathing.

See me as a man not as the monster you came to know

Flowers Bloom

Petals unfurled,
Amidst the tangled web of deceit,
Truth triumphed,
And in its wake,
Flowers bloomed,
A quiet testament,
To the enduring beauty,
Of honesty's embrace.

Petals Fall with angelic grace

When the Universe Was Too Afraid to Lose You

I wept my love into you,
Bleeding my colors onto your soul.

The sequel is never as good as the original
How original

I treasure  my blossom / like a flower she shall grow and blossom
I cherish her skin /fearing the worst when day it will rotten
I curse the moon / faces he changes some grin some scheme
I hold her face closest  / when she misbehaves , outside in woods , to the window she will scream
I pleasure my blossom / poems she begs for so I will always write more
I answer my blossom / questions of home ? but here she will stay , here where it is warm
I dream of my blossom / her pedals lose color  in colder season
I pollen my blossom / by moon fall we will know if conceived was daughter or son
I bury my blossom / this cabin is silent but loud  like wind
I cry for my blossom / our child starved without a drop of milk
I need a new blossom / a daisy field is over the hill
I find my new blossom / but another gardener is there ; another I shall ****
I walk with my blossom / she holds onto my wrist tight with love
I carry my blossom / through the doorway as newlywed
I fight for my blossom / scoundrels or sheriffs couldn’t fathom our celibate matrimony
I lust for my blossom / how she smells and reminds me of my last family
I yearn for my blossom / she cries with tears - soul curling  callings of pompous proportions

S H E . N E E D S . T O . C A L M . D O W N .

I pet my blossom / hum out what she needs to hear now

“The day we decay in the casket we share ; we will stare so close nose to nose. No need to breath so faint and vigorously into my ear , Im here , my dear , forever through death. Let the worms feed on us both , when our story is told , in books or songs of romance envious audience will dance. Hold onto my flesh if you need some more , in the cupboard I stored , another layer for warmth. You smell of dandelions your hair like straw , I swore I saw your shattered kaleidoscope garnished glare elsewhere before. Your soul is sown onto my own how humbled I am to have you back home. Sleep now. H U S H . N O W. Wipe tears of joy off of your porcelain skin. You will wake to my eyes , every day , every night , I will hum you asleep sing you my eulogy again again again. My most precious flower , with such a solemn smile  , lips so cracked kiss so sweet , your flower will bloom with a blossom none have seen. Goodnight fare love greet me with glee inside your dream.”

the ambience of woods / the sirens of crickets
I close my eyelids on the floor beside my blossom
s i l e n c e

coward…
finish the poem/
do you love her, or do you not?
they are all in anticipation with how you will prolong these unsettled emotions with interrupted punctuation…
ellipses are used as visual seeds on your paper to plant the exposition of the prologue to a metaphor illustrating a tree of all branching decisions that lead to this over exhausted tragedy
spilt the rain check or bark up new rearranged jigsaw  literature structures  
make this sentence not rhyme with any other jargon found above or below
sure…just reinsure you’re not the monster when you have so much self awareness to your problem,
don’t forget you’re an addict to self inflicted mistakes
back stabbing yourself hurts , but the rush is worth the risk your subconscious is the witness and victim but has no way to make you listen

COWARD
finish the poem/
no more discussions

simple beautiful ambience

alone, but only with you,

a red flush of burning flesh ; iron aftertaste on my tongue after the bass in my chest slows down

remarkably makes my heart panic as if in a crowded audience

deep breathe ; chapped lips ; sixth sense pushing me closer to your warmth

subconscious stranger to myself takes control when I know I must hold you ; but lack courage to confess the confidence I give you was a gift that you left

for me…

lust; a duet of polar opposite ambitions

secrets we kept and promises we wished on ; sacred touches and kisses we blushed upon

Insatiable flavor you bring ; familiar like a sound from a song I heard you sing

I don’t want to rush out of this Paradise; but I cant stand being a prisoner of this taunting device: I want to give us a chance, but do I need to put all my love up for good ? I hate gambling - I have a feeling - whenever the house plays with a loaded  dice

he could paint hearts helping any lost soul find love in any helpless moment
strangers say he resembled Euphrates in every picture frame he was captured in
a tortured artist who’s sly tongue could sell sand to a camel—a humble poet who’s ego was unprecedented
—or unappreciated?
unaccepted?
undiscovered by strangers he sees as lovers
silent type typing lines as fast as his unconscious whispers the next word to the sequence
or madness?
happiness?
no, just a hobby at best.
just a stress reliever while work demands attention;
more immediate than a brat’s confession of abandonment while the parent is scheduling plans for his 17th birthday the day the child turns three…
a long time ago he and I didn’t feel so different
now why don’t I feel the same as he does though?

confusion is a ramble that both the speaker and listener losses a sense of direction with…

direction?
dictation?
no, it’s a vacation from overthinking…
just pour out this swarming storm of emotions
just pour out the bottle and let your new voice please answer
a drink doesn’t matter - a sip won’t make him panic
he’s calm like an ocean but can scream like a hammer
a psychotic unstable pacifist
more lost then bones in a wedge under the wreckage
on a salary as underpaid as an audiologist analyst
always here to listen never to speak;
someone always needs a shoulder he just shuffles his feet
crazy lazy weekends ends in reruns locked on repeat

—SHOW TIME—

Sorry for the way I stumbled into your life.
I swear to God-the floor was pulling at my ankles…
also! the celling top was giving me a backside high-five — the moment I finished the fifth and after the sun turned off the lights.

I embarrass myself each time I try to embrace this side,
cliche as falling in love like a rerun television show—
freaking out like a pubescent clown realizing he should have grown up to be a mime;
a silent touch of romantic irony, laughing at my own jokes,
until this awkward moment flies out the window…

stop me if you heard this one before;
why did time grow wings?
to fly by like a crow squalling-
that it is past time you should be married…

—PUNCH LINE—

unreliable communication
=
incomprehensible interpretations

being an addict to tragic accidents-
known as flirtatious Failures fulling the fire
of the metaphorical dying flicker to the love life of our protagonist-
this is precisely what was prophesied
from a poet’s birthday candle wishes.

it’s funny how Lady Luck and cousin karma have this affair of misfortune;
capsizing all relationships—
that were set to sail—
hook-line-and-sinker stationary in an icy-burn isolation.

hopefully time can thaw out this doomed  autobiography (of a poetic confession trapped with 4 borders boring the audience awaiting the same confession)
he has been struggling to sense together,
since the first line that was typed…

—MAKING UP MY MIND—

so I stand up with a straight face—
swallow the frog and eat the butterflies for breakfast—
walk up to you with full intentions,
with a sly grin you echo the words I mummer; just as a mic in a crowed place,
I repeat in a shy broken throat-making me more of a fool from the words I chose-
latter to laugh
and just to write about
how embarrassing I made our very first date…

humanity vs insanity;
a joke vs the punchline;
art captured in a single sentence-
such an inspiration seeing the beauty in pain-
a story of how life is;
absence vs abuse ;
addiction and his muse;
just one more semicolon to the self aware audience that this  triumph continues;
despondency of a tragic backstory leaves complacent agony of a stereo-typical-dictionary-picture-perfect-literary-school-subject­-finger-snapping-cloaked-poet-eddy-outcast-finger-poking-laugh-st­ock-lesser-person-desperate-feeling-introspective-adolescent-prot­agonist-of-the-1sided-tragic-heroic-epic-anthology-of-a-dark-mind­ed-online-persona-posting-exposed-person-caught-lurking-only-want­ing-something-someone(?)-person-love(?)-showing-only-rejecting-cr­iticism-critiquing-only-meant-toBe-helping-overthinking-over-thin­king…

Over
Thinking

tripping so hard licking dry cement
talking so wack losing all common-sense
dreams so dead what did any of it meant
babe’s flesh feels like plastic meat

eyes all wide LOOKING RIGHT AT ME
EYES ALL WIDE glares just like a creep
no one speaks RESPECT THE DEAD
NO ONE LEAVES this is the end

delirious hyperactive paranoia
delicious hypersensitive paraphernalia
spongebob episodes play out like a poem
sobbing like a hobo in my motorhome

in a bleak  betraying  whimsical way
I want to lay in the desolate snow with you.
paraphrasing how poets say
I want to grow old with you- so I’ll try:

<𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 & 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘦>
melancholy = mediocrely
medicinal = manipulative
promises = broken    

clichés and critics say my love is predictable and scripted
that I’m foreshadowing tragedies or my muse is figurative
I never did well in English - but you made me pick up the pen
I never thought I’d fall in love - but you make me want to do it again

I care less who sees this - except you
I’ll just take another hiatus - until you tell me how good did I do?

the shine of her shrine brings fair smiles to some,
young lies fester and spread faster than flies hatching from larvae.

Days by days - weeks at a time - content is a constant crisis to our protagonist

summer is welting while winter is begging to stop the talk of death,
but change is soon - somethings are better not stopped; the same as letting the flame from the candle die with the room...

It’s been 16 years and you still look the same-
Our hearts have been far apart but you still remember my name...
Your perfume sticks to your skin-
This room is filled from moments of fortune from when...
I show you the calluses to prove the age I am-
I hold your face with a rough touch from a hurting man...
My guitar hums a familiar tune-
I need to leave this place perhaps later maybe soon...
/Liquid IV tips and taps down a plastic glass\
Look into my broken brown eyes - look past the sadness of this moment - realize since everyone else has disappeared I won’t disappoint - I will always stay and still be here
Forever and now until your very last moment

the currency is war - the debt is ***,
it’s time to repay the tax from the glory days.

conspiracy is free - among the men at sea,
they await to join Yankees that are drunken on the shore.

ad-ease! calm your sails - the wind startles lads, that jump at first sound of freedom.

she sounds like a fantasy - sung within our shanties , wearing silk and cotton undergarments.

liberty is precious - like a rose you must cherish, for our neighbors are caught with stone setting fire to our garden...

I want to do you - you nasty little creature

but I cannot stomach - you seeing another.

The sacred touch of your skin -
is nothing like theirs - to hƎll with all them-
I only need yours.

Am I just a Vermin - riddled with diseases - or am I worth saving ? until you don’t need me

I’m so pathetic but I’m so obsessive- maybe this is what true love is called...

sitting in the dark; breathing mechanically-
looking down at the ground; tear drops fall cloaked in the shadows-
silently wheezing in pain; wishing for any change - to put this black heart back in its box -
meanwhile she shows him affection&attention
while I’m mourning over our wedding being ruined in a single morning walking in-on her-on top-of him...
..."𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦" I speak aloud in a shattered scream—repeatedly hitting my skull against the car door screen—never get married on Halloween

"𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩."
ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ⁱᵗ ⁱˢ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ
            
                      T̶o̶ l̶e̶a̶v̶e̶ a̶ d̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ m̶e̶m̶o̶r̶y̶
ᖴOᖇᘜOTTᗴᑎ Iᑎ Tᕼᗴ ᗪᑌᔕT

I want to surround you
take all the harm away
hum to you softly-
watch you drift to sleep from the melody...

I want to understand love
I will stop the bleeding if you **** the pain
I will fall down and confess my sins
only if you promise staying here next to me...

I’m not afraid of the midnight storms
I’m petrified for being abandoned and torn-
apart where my insides sit in the open-
and my decaying heart is seen as art to inspire your next poem...

I want to surround you
I want to remember a time I could forget
even if you call my words out as a paradox
I’ll stop singing sad songs if you will complete my duet...

sell your guitar and forget your dreams.
tell your friends it was just make-believe.
𝕒𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕝𝕝 you were just a kid hitting a drum, in your uncles garage.
meanwhile your mom was drunk; and your dad was busy beating the dog.
people will always laugh at your tragedies...

so head to bed and try to get some sleep
I’m certain when you awaken things will still be the same; Father Time is always late to the first outing - that’s why destiny takes so long for things to change.

keep your spirits high - just like that time you waited on your parents for a ride.
remember in that parking lot? you talked to your shadow for nearly 3 hours while your mum & dad where still parked-in the driveway getting high off of  disappointment and “ HAᗺITƧ " ...

stay inside your head; it’s a safe space from all the craziness. Just remember your not alone because I too have dealt with this, I love you Lewis. Goodbye

for those that support the disorder of life,
understand the order of all peace kept - sleeps with one hand tight with a knife,

covered in sheets that reek from the odor of death - secrets creep over the  security that was sworn to be kept,
molded from laws as soft as  concrete constantly mocking the hungry  families who eat dinner with a papier-mâché fork wrapped in  barbed wire,

like a Christmas present expired to be opened on Halloween - the corporate begs for his try as he fears his life will be silenced  from the woman screaming inside the screen of a machine,

trails hide liars but it is unanimous  the innocence is such an inconvenience to those who share a chair in power - one more child is treated as a photo never receiving justice as  deserved,
dessert is served but sentencing was never heard - the Franklin family left without any sweet revenge,
it seems big business buys opinions and walks clean with red covered hands that dipped in the process

such a shame the court caught an inner most disgusting sickness and deserted dignity from the rights of 13-year old Rebecca Arnold Frank

they said all I ever did
was to live by feeding off all your accomplishments,
that I was only a fiend-not your friend
but if they began from the beginning,
perhaps they'd understand...

I was just jealous-of your will and
determination,
to move on from the memories
and act as if they never did happen

8 months makes a memento
maybe that makes me pathetic-
to still be writing rhymes about you,
and lock you inside my head.

but-
don't you worry,
I'm about to move on
mister nobody will finally write his final lines.

The depth of the darkness you claimed to feel inside my eyes-
lead you straight to my secrets
and helped break through the seduction-façade-every lie...

I bet these brown burrows brought a sense of home
each time you laid in my arms it gave a sensation of hope

But poets are petty for guilt tripping those we claim
“we hold close”

however,
isn’t it unfair?
That I can’t fall asleep alone-
since my muse keeps holding my dreams for ransom-
every night infiltrates my subconscious
without an invitation...

I won’t put blame on you
it’s me who hates myself
for signing away happiness
trading it for selfish ***

I realized in the dusk of a darkening night,
when the rain enclosed a soggy emotion,
revelations of a cycle I have entrapped myself into-
came in spite of foggy-ill-ententions.

I had to leave and fill myself with hate
and pry you would feel the same before it’d be too late...

I hate how much I still love you, it honestly makes me sick.
apart of me wishes we could wipe the slate
and try another attempt.
but that’s the problem-it will never work

so sorry that I never learned and held onto the silence-I didn’t write all these lines to make you hurt
I know I must be a ****
giving you such simple things
like letters and gifts

keep something as a souvenir to remind you how it’s all meaningless stuff
for when the sun fades away - later today - there’s a chance {I will be considering} that you’ll actually be taking it all apart;
out of destruction-or embarrassment- the possibilities for you not to finish this note are endless...

but poetry is just words on dead trees
I speak in circles
for breakfast I’ll eat all my words
until I feel empty
then I’ll pour
every drop of this petty pain
into a symbolic rusted chalice
and drink until I get drunk-
off from my last soliloquy {that goes} ;

perhaps later in life - when we both reach our prime
we can sit down together and look each other in the eye
until then hate all the things I gave and took away from your life

why do memories gotta be this upsetting?
I don’t remember forgetting being this frustrating.
why is she telling me that I am overstepping?
I just need some sleep,
but the bells sing hymns of our wedding.
is that my daughter? or an impostor of his eyes and your nose,
oh my sweet little angel!
you unforgiving monster!
you’re her mother and he’s just a confession to the *******,
I don’t care if I’m drunk right now
You can’t take her away and give the credit to the liar!
I’m still her father

behold such a pure spring smile
a gracious green witch is born-
to a family not kin of her own
sworn to protect and heal those-
close in heart and to her home.

a queen who wears a crown of purple
thoughts, wisdom burns power in her dreams
awake she feels not alone-
however over encumbered
from flurries of hearts upon her steps;
like luscious velvet rose pedals
she sees and treats
with delicately envied dances,
how light on her feet-
how she does not fight to seek
a story unfold
one from epics and elders foretold
of romances that burn into tragedies.
thus begins a seduction to another non verbal
intimacy.

her soul does not graze only to one
her will does not stay in an emerald-
covered-circle
her loyalty is not won with
sincerities of golden covered
apologies.
her strength grows from those
she seeks
understands what worship and openness
truly means;
to live with oneself and love the teachings
her goddess brings and ushers
forgiveness to ignorance
so she can change in a better way.

just as a calf sheds new fur
her growth is unknown
until the pain stains blood red anger;
into the mark of the mistake-
which makes her mind fell less alive
each time she stays in solitude
the sadness feeds darkening madness
which storms fresh seeds to another
growing self-massacre.
when love is lost she mediates
and waits...
patience pays.
when change arrives,
parties of the new black moon
bring smiles from close friends
together, hopefully sooner than later
these conversations
cause no more hibernations
to her inner most
beautiful creativity.
her passion
spills upon affection
to this second family
a faithful array-such colorful company-
a genuine celebration!
at least a fest deserves food for such festivities
moments pass as evergreen memories
which become hummed
as angelic melodies-
fulfill her every emotion sung through
the reflective windows of her soul
a glow from her eyes
shows happiness is still alive
which makes poets woe and lovers know
she is free

~ taurus

do you remember
just after December,
two Scorpios
heading down an ol dusty road?
there they go
into the snow,
never to come to your front door.
how different would it be
if all I became was just a dormant memory?
would you have ever made that promise to your soul;
to pursue the purpose-when-in-mist
of a blizzard blow
to find the words of a birds songs
and hold that sound-
despite with every shiver felt-
when you heard the dying words in
each ever-eerie echo.
so
cover your ears
shut your eyes
for when you sleep
and wake tonight
the darkened sky will not cry
and shed those silent tears you call snow.
hide you pain in plain site
everyone walks over your flurry (I see their footprints)  
you love the cold even though
you never noticed you were the sun never meant to die alone
so shin with a smile-your's brings them new life.
don't rush-breathe slow,
for when the white burns a brighter-greener-ground
realize change will come soon.
just as the melting snow eventually fades-
through this cold will come a new age
and those memories of two simple Scorpios
will just be an opposite-day feeling
from when you achieve love and see yourself
as the glorious goddess you are
no longer will your heart be bleeding
in the season of the snow

this is
we're falling in love
taking our time.
this is
we're caught making love
we're out of line.

this is, the happily-ever-after that was meant to be.
this is, your dream of growing old
but not with me.

this is the hot regret in your stomach
this is the cold prison you've never wanted
this is a daydream gone grey
this is the cycle of pain you just can't escape
this palace built on pleasant patience-
aged well with genuine grace-
underneath these wallpapers
a smell of rot-
an infiltrating sour scent of danger-  

this is the crushed rock wall in my soul
this is myself never to know why-
since ignorance makes the best slaves-
I will resist  to change
goodbye.

I don't want to be the cigarette in your coat pocket
Just so you can take me out and use me
And after the high put me out and end my light -sprawled naked across my bed-just to say
"I wish we didn't do that..."

Filling me with such regret

Ignorance and innocence were introduced with gleeful and gay intentions
Spring sprung with curious conversations
Summer was ever warmer with lovely everlasting memories
In fall they fell for one another
Slept through winter in each other’s arms
However when the red moon-gloomed of change
They parted paths and forgot each other’s names

hello ***
you seemed to not have noticed
me dressed in your favorite clothes
slummed to the floor like a pile of wastefulness.
good-riddance
you seemed to loss your patience
when looking at a piece of plastic glass
with a half-guessed assumption
of me and her
loving life together.
good-morning
is what I'll sing every-time to my new lover
when she won't be a nosy noisy
never ending story of the same heartbreak
broken on a loop of another thief who stole
and would take your "innocence".
don't forget this
this is what you wanted...