so I brought my writer wife
(prominently pregnant)
to the hospital
and on her bed, she screamed:
"weren't" "hasn't" "couldn't" "shan't"
"aint" "hadn't" "you're" "isn't"
"aren't" "didn't" "wasn't"
"who's?" "what's?" "he's" "she's"

The doctors were confounded
and they turned to me and they said:
"What the hell is she doing?"

And I replied with double speed
and a violent sense of urgency:
*"Don't you know?
She's having contractions -
she's a writer"

There are two types of people
The heart breakers, and the broken-hearted
I cannot be the heart breaker
It pains  my body, as fear pulses through my veins
knowing i will be broken again
You ripped the muscle from my chest
And left a scar that bleeds each time
you kiss her, touch her, think of her
don't kiss me, don't touch me, and don't think of me
It aches and aches
Why have i let you break me?
There are two types of people
heart breakers, and the heartbroken
how can you destroy me by loving her?
How can you break me and remain unshattered?
Why can i never be the breaker
Ripping the souls form others chests
Turning their advances into worthlessness
turning their love into loathing
turning their hearts to stone
like you did mine.

Oh what a day
Is it yet May
Two decades and a few years ago I was born
Now a man; all grown

Just
When you think
Tomorrow will never come
It's yesterday

Time flies
And it never lies

Move quick
Or perish

As humans, we are quite thoughtful
Given such a beautiful and powerful mind
Yet we aren't trained to utilise its magnificence
So at certain times we tend to overthink the awful
And dwell on all that we know
If only we had continued to explore as children
O' I wonder what is there to find
In our society though, conforming is virtue
So what fate will befall me if I stray far from the collective mind?

We speak of the Unknown as if we know it
It's majesty forever lost in a fugazi
Our own little lie in our own little world
Try as we might she remains unknown
A wonder untold, a joint unrolled
And as her mysteries unfold
She reveales herself again as we had always known
Unknown

The essence of something is Nothing
The essence of thought is Being
For it could not exist without it
Without silence, sound would not be
Without space, matter would not be
It is the home of awareness
It is everlasting abundance
It is the beginning and the end