I'm narcissistic, egotistical, over confident and certainly blissful.

Realizing this. It makes me love myself. A life of highs and lows. Looking for,
Just a little more to know. Looking for, a new way to grow.

It makes me hate myself. A life of empty smiles and hellos. Looking for,
Just a little more glow. Looking for, a new way to show.

It makes me Proud of  myself. The fact is, right now, I have no idea who I really am.

So, for now, I will be training to become a great man.

Please, don't let this be just a plan.

When you lose a lover
or a dear friend
you might
get them back
but they'll never
be the same
ever again

we say
no strings attached
we say
feelings won't get in the way
we say
it's meaningless
but two people
that have engaged
in this type of behavior knows
that feelings do get in the way
that emotions are stirred
and hearts are broken
and love is present
I find myself dumbfounded
when thinking
that I could have ever thought
that I wouldn't love you one day
and now
I just look into your eyes
I say a word or two
we're both confused
it's painful
and stupid
yet
it's the best thing that has ever happened to me

At dawn's first light, she awakens,
casting off her grey stone shell.
Her skin reflects Old Sol's blaze,
revealing no sign of age or blemish.

She takes to the tower's spiral staircase,
descending with the timely grace
of Autumn's auburn leaves falling.
To the pier, she walks alone.

She comes to rest on an ivory throne
and casts her gaze upon the mountainside.
Dining on dates and a spectrum of berries
as she solemnly inspects every summit and base.

Sailing down from overhead,
a hunting falcon attempts to catch a view
of the maiden seated on her chiseled cloud.
She neither blinks, nor turns. Eyes set upon the jagged rocks.

Her purpose is frightful, but she continues.
From eras since passed and still to unhatch,
she waits for the mountains to come alive.
Once more, she will tend to her hard-set herd.

Lofty

Aimlessly floating
Destination unknown

Inspiration escaping grasp
Silver lining lost
Pages left unturned

Cloudy is the day
Restless is the night
Left to recklessly dream
Within a thoughtless mind

Sleep is the only seclusion
For dreaming will not cease
Oh, such a keen villain
She is waiting so silently
Mouth watering; ready to strike

In the midnight tree,
I heard her calling out to me,
Butterfly wings adorned,
Couldn't mask her succubi smile,
Or devilish horns,
But still she flew,
Majestic, graceful,
and oh so pretty,
And I watched as she sang,
Sang those sweet sweet melodies.

She didn't speak, not in human tongues,
But every word she spoke was true,
"John, John, John,"
I came to her, then from out the tree,
mesmerized, hypnotized,
Her image is memorized,
And she revealed herself to me,
Her naked purity,
Now, I must admit,
with my own sly grin,
That in the air of that midnight tree,
Did I ravish her,
Quite intimately.

restore me, restore life.

Vicious collector, violent specter.
Woven and tethered with the leftovers
or a kindergarten nap time rug.
Her motherly instincts overpower
her wit, as the banshees within her shriek
their born again, worn again verse.

Do you want to tie her to a leash?
Do you want to put her in a cage?
Do you want to let her roam the dark,
and forever nightly free her rage?

She's threatened by the markings
of a first-born tortoise shell.
The sounds of rabid children roars
and whipping flagellant tails
marks the arena where the pride lord
got her first taste of sour fear.

Do you want to hold her down?
Do you want to make her stay?
Do you want to lock her in her room,
and never let her run and play?