Fruits of my existence causes a sensation to ratify my soulful being.
A feeling so warm and so deluxe that I fail to contain it in entirety.
While I may misunderstand aspects of this mystery I continue to ponder,
I do entertain keeping faith.

A great deal of gratefulness for love and lust as it pumps gracefully through my heart,
Leaving me incapable of discovering a detainer of joy.
She's known to have many flaws,
But I mustn't exceed an investigation of what they are to be.

Life, she's such a beauty.
A beauty no man should take for granted.
For I am a man she treats with royalty and favoritism.
I do not dare question why it is me,
That she adores so dearly.

Flowers bloom in April,
A month of my debut on Earth.
I'm blessed by god and the angels above,
With a lack of remorse and fear.

I'll shamelessly thank whomever is responsible,
For this happiness I've been gifted this year.
No being should challenge the strength of her power,
It is I who can appreciate the loveliness about her,
And will forever hold a smile when she stumbles across me.

It all starts with a kiss on the forehead from the devil.
A curse so deadly that The Grim Reaper would fear for his life.
Togetherness is a lost cause for sanity and my mind.
One of them, if not both, has been absent.

I've killed many and many before.
Homicidal cravings have polluted my veins.
Empathy has fled the scene of this heinous crime inside my head,
As the voices so gracefully moved in.

Frequent scenarios are projected in my dreams,
Like some spooky yet ****** film.
Two vampiric women kiss so maliciously,
As their lips are painted with blood.
This vision makes ****** *******.

The blood flow has not yet been drained from my vision,
As it stains the cotton of my memory.
Remorseful thoughts convert to an addiction.
I need to accommodate another fix, before my inevitable conviction.

I've once felt the feelings of the peaceful,
But reality has stolen my conscience.
A lovely soul transformed to atrocity .
This lantern gained a shortage of oil,
causing me to become lost in a field of misery and pain.

Minacious laughs frolic in my ears,
Though these giggles I'm quite familiar with.
I heard them often, so joyful and so free.
But now they've turned to evil.

An inability to move my hands when desired,
Caused by attire not aimed for warmth.
I'm a prisoner blocked by a wall of darkness,
So deliberately detaining my sanity.

I have loved a time, so long ago,
Where happiness was my most valued acquaintance.
Yet something inside of me awoken so suddenly,
Shamelessly demolishing any remote heart I once possessed.

Possession is such a polite word to use,
describing demonic forces taking ownership of your soul.
But I consider it a blessing in disguise,
Due to the unescapable fact that who I was could not be an acception,
To those who hold superiority over me.

A monster I was?
Or A monster I have became.
It would never be determined by the others.
All they fathom is that a monster is contained,
And lives will no longer be stolen by the guilty hands of this monster.

But what gives human life it's worth?
I will forever ponder that thought.
For I am the star of this so called Hell,
And where I'll be when my time has come,
No sane human would dwell.

A mystery woman named Mystery,
So suspenseful yet so majestic.
A damsel in distress she was,
Who keeps it all to herself.

Pale as the snow that fell one evening,
An evening where I had met her.
Her luscious red lips,
Her black painted finger tips,
And her wavy dark hair has intrigued me.

Her eyes were so mesmerizing,
But so lovely as they were frightening.
Her smile was rare when she showed it,
But her laugh was much too sinister.
Yet I had an urge to sound it more.

A sudden lust I felt for her,
Once she had been flirtatious.
What her motive was,
I'll never know,
But her love making surely was bodacious.

The rapid lust was frightening to me,
As it became an untreatable addiction.
Once lust had turned to love,
I knew it was a bad contradiction.

Once she felt that feeling for me,
She couldn't help it much longer.
She rose from the bed,
Her hands on her head,
Crying,
Wishing that she had lived stronger.

Amazed at what I had witnessed this instant,
I felt a sudden chill.
Her body glowed like Christmas Eve,
And then I started to feel ill.

I don't quite remember,
what happened post chill,
But skeptical I seem to be.
As I woke up with a slight aching head,
My memory was somewhat fuzzy.

Leaves are falling all around me,
containing such color and beauty.
The smell of the air is crisp,
Like dew on mountain trees.

The temperature outside decreasing,
As does my care in the world,
When I'm drawing smoke,
from such tobacco that is sweet.
It is now my favorite season.
A season I have branded "Pipe Season".

A pipe made of corn,
A heart made from passion.
A hobby I consider gold.
I'll continue to love this pipe of mine,
Until I'm eighty years old.

Rich clouds drawn from flaming leaves,
Leaves seasoned like cucumbers resting in salted vinegar.
The chilled breeze of Autumn flows smoothly,
With my vanilla flavored taste buds.

An odor like heaven enters my nose,
I grow fond of my handheld chimney,
Sitting at my palm as I admire it as a work of art.
Surpassing the Sistine Chapel,
Through my teak colored eyes.

Now I feel that Autumn is here,
This pipe has inspired it's elegance.
But what will become of it when the Winter arrives?
This moment will eventually end,
I fear.

I can enter your mind.
I can make you feel emotions that you thought were non existent.
I can show you the harsh reality in decisions you've once contemplated,
But I can also show you the perks.

I am your conscience,
And I am smarter than you.
I control your every action.
I like getting inside of your head.
Because you're weak and predictable.

I can turn you into some little puppet,
Because without me,
You'd be dead.
I like to tease you.

I'm the one who speaks to you.
The one who projects little films in your brain of what is to come,
If you make a turn down a particular road.

I can ruin the fun,
Yet I can prevent the unfortunate.
I suppose you can call me your guardian angel,
But no angel could ever be as loyal to you as me.

You may see my opinion as irrelevant,
Yet you may be grateful for my support.
I'm only here to protect you.
Regardless of how devious you think I may be.

Remember that time you decided to try new activities?
You remember, the one's that surpassed your original preferences?
The ones that make me run away and a new sense of thinking appears?

Well I stopped you.
Because nobody likes a dead sixteen year old.
There is so much evil in this world,
And I am the wall that stops you from becoming a part of it.

I am your conscience.
And you barely acknowledge what I do for you.

The buzzing of a street lamp,
Echoing through my silent block.
Sounds of crickets are heard,
But the silence is deafening.

Darkness surrounding 8th Street.
An uneasy feeling of being watched,
Creeping up against my neck,
As if it's licking me so tenderly.

The neighborhood of which my home resides,
So mysteriously nerve wrecking.
Petrified to take the garbage to the curb,
I look over both shoulders to make sure.

A creepy sound of laughter,
Floods the sound of nature.
Flabbergasted by my discovery,
That I am being stalked by an unknown being.

Whispers being whispered,
My heart begins to scream.
I loathe this feeling of dreadful fear.
I can't move.
I am paralyzed.

Whatever this thing is,
Human or supernatural.
I am almost positive this is arousing,
To the terrifying being that it is.

A predator hunting it's prey,
I now become the target.
Help me.
Oh god.
Help me.

Uncomfortable shivers contaminate my bloodstream.
Freezing in July,
It's 75 degrees.

Surrounded by the supernatural.
Unwanted manifestations of spirit,
Making me their little toy.
What in god's name is the end game?

Death,
Leaving my face frozen in terror.