no idea of what lies inside of you
an empty piece of skin until I lunge for my pen
I give you meaning; a heartbeat stirs
a collection of breathing words, a personality to construe
trembling at my creation, a sultry body of sin
strange how you want something until it occurs?

a little man and a little me
holding hands, admiring trees
smoking bud and making love
together, time is never enough
but we don't look at the future
instead we gaze at one another
a spiritual connection in a very human world
if only we weren't bound by humanistic words
to describe what we feel; language is never enough

rotting away, limb by limb
"how come you never talk?"
no one's listening
"but you're liked and loved"
and still I feel so alone
a kingdom to myself
isn't a place to call home
the trees are mad
ripping apart their hair
lifelessly laying, a shortage of air
the birds are glaring ominously
at me, a biased perception or reality?
animals are limping, moaning for love
while cupid's head dangles inside of my tub
I'll show you my hands, indeed they are red
guilty I'm not, only sick in the head

sometimes it is best to do nothing with it
let it rest inside and smother in peace
bother it not with worries and grief
the happiest of fields do not know of man
and the sharp whips of greedy, greased hands