The secret of love is seeking variety in your life together, and never letting routine chores dull the melody of your romance.. conduct your business with a clear mind

Alot was counting on you, you're still deciding who's all plotting on you, i may never understand, we're an unbreakable chain when i hold your hand, god doesn't even understand how cold this world is im steadily losing focus

She is no longer there
But, you can still hear her voice
To guide and protect you
And to help you make the right choice
Never forget what she taught you
She was always there
Mother was forever sincere
And she made her words clear

...my mom tells me as she tucks me to sleep.
Her eyes are bright blue with similarities to the Tenerife Sea. Solid, bright but with an icy touch. I believe her.
Then my eyelids flutter open after a kiss and I stare into a young man’s brown eyes. Solid, deep, full, sincere, warm. I trust him more than I should.
My own eyes aren’t that easy to decode. They’re a complete mess.
A chaos of color conflicting with eachother, instead of settling on one.
Blue when I wake up,but  green when I step outside.  
If eyes really are the windows to the soul what does that say about me?
Am I splatters of different colors floating around like petals in a mysterious endless lake in the forbidden part of the forest?
Am I a rainbow only to be seen clearly when both rain and sun hits upon me?
Am I a bouquet filled with different flowers plucked different places with different stories?
Forests are easy to get lost i.
Lakes are easy to drown in.
Rainbows are not tangible.
Flowers are pretty but their lifespan is short after having been plucked.
I wish I wasn’t a chaotic mess.
That I wasn’t torn in between the things I want, the things I can, the things I have, the things I want to be.
I hope that one day my eyes and mind will make up their will.
But for right now, I my eyes may stay a chameleon.
Only seen by those who really see.

"White man, white man!" that's what I am.
A melting *** of privilege taken out of my hand.
A white man humiliated, just to misunderstand.
All the while apologizing for my good ol' Uncle Sam:
I am.

A Liberal heresy, a conservative tragedy; an academic policy of preserving its blasphemy.

Racial division, it's what sets us apart.
Literally dividing both sections a part.
You can fight it, accept it, leave it or treat it.
Or refuse to let it dictate, just believe it and seize it.

White man, white man, it's what I am.
A melting *** of privilege I do not understand.
A white man humiliated and set apart.
To ponder their indifference to how I play my part.

Typical male banter of which you think you are exempt-  but you are not.

Like the chick on the couch who plays the dumb blond, you are part of the culture.

Like an unnoticed concussion, you stain our brains with blackened thoughts of ideal bodies and insecurities.

You reek of stale laughter and wasted physique as you try to preserve your **** strap membership card with failing qualifications.

Since your hot wives have stretch marks and wrinkles around their forced smiles you play your fantasy league ; padding your stats with disingenuous gestures of matrimony.

With a stiff spine, we humor your talents the way your mother did- her icy tailbone under Friday night lights and forgiving disposition for missed curfews.
  
You draw from those years like a cactus in the rainforest.
  - soft soil - lacking roots and obviously out of place.

From above- you are an anomaly among the vines, masking your Cialis induced shaft by standing among real wood.

I hope you get cut down soon, all of you - turned into something better - like paper or a changing table for the sons we will raise to be disqualified from your clubs.

there is anticipation and excitement
when a song fluctuates into a higher key
and the bass line brings about a certain groove
that all of a sudden
you find yourself feeling greedy for more and more of it

that feeling of a heart happily sinking to the bottom
is your gift to me
when i catch you looking first

there is anticipation and excitement
when a story flows so smoothly with each turn of the page
and your eyes can't keep up with the pace of your curiosity
that all of a sudden
you find yourself feeling greedy for more and more of it

that feeling of a heart wandering through a sky of possibilities
is my gift to you
when you catch me looking first

it is a mutual state of mind where the two of us are wondering
where can i go with this?

where?