Your body is not just a container for your souls; it is something more than that.
Your body is a place to worship for the saints; it should be clean and pure.
Your body is a hell for the sinners; it should be burning.
Your body is a beautiful memory for the forgotten; it should be colorful.
Your body is a home to the lost; it should be warm and polite.
Your body is a paradise for the messed up; it should be peaceful.
Your body is a fire for the daring; it should be wild.
Your body is a maze for the wanderers; it should be full of wonders.
Your body is a torch for the blind; it should be a guide.


But.


At the end of the day,


Your body is all you have and it should be yours.

I like the sound of the rain
washing away the silent day

And the lonely call
of a home-bound train

A mournful morning
kind of pain

....Give me the sound
of a blue bluejay

over the busy noise
that mocks my ways

I want to pack my bag
and fetch my dog

Whistle a tune
while we walk along...

Come on girl
It's starting to rain

I hear the sound
of the lonesome train

and the blue bluejay
calling my name

(Here's where yer sposed to whistle)

don't you dare sneer
and walk away from me
as if we meant nothing
as if i were nothing
to you

you were a planet
to me
now you are dust

how dare you call my poetry dust
how dare you brush away my love
like dust

There is beauty in the way she unravels herself to me.
How she plucks on the strings of her well-worn corset of flesh,
With fingers skimming over the buttons and hooks that made her once distant to me.
Stripping the clothes of Herself until she stands naked as a baby.
Placing her Trust in the cradle of my arms and her Heart in my hands.

There is beauty on how she self-destructs infront of me.
The prismatic glass pieces of her soul scattered like fallen snow
As I hammered through it with an ice pick of words, lies and promises to be kept.
Her tears ****** dry as the last falls down like a diamond discarded.

The underground dream
is dreamless underground