You showed me your line of vinyls. You know, I always liked the ones that dug their lives into music.
The way you'd add your experiences in tunes, your voice much therapeutic.
You played me like the violin, stroking your brown soft fingers through my strings.
Your blues flowing through my ears,
I could feel the skin crawling chilling feelings near & near.
Remember when we'd lose ourselves to dance in the middle of your bedroom floor.
The way we'd flow our bodies into the  rhythm of the beat helped me adore you much more.
The spiritual tunes of Michael Jackson,
Oh, you rock my world.
The sensual touch of your body is like the equivalence of jazz blues.
You always had ways with your words, my operator real smooth.
My mind ran deep with your influential words, especially when you'd make me feel as though I was your one & only girl.
Blind to anyone else, I felt as if I belonged in your inner world.
But all that came between us was fast women, and herbs.
All that I have of you are memories in music.
The words you gave me, no longer sounds acoustic.

I am the sword that splits the world in twain.
I am the shield upon which pain breaks.
I am the storm that rages in your heart.
I am the rain that patters softly across your cheeks.
I am the cheerful madman waltzing down your street.

In one moment
Everything is different
Things shift
People change

In that moment
Everything came to a stop
Things became blurry
People vanished.

In our moment
Everything was quite
Things slowed
We were so close

In the moment
You pulled me closer
We locked eyes
Then your lips were on mine

In one moment
Everything was different with us.
Things became greatly shifted
And people watched as I
Fell for you again.

It's like soda-
Bubbly. Sweet.
It's like sun-
Warm. Bright.
It's like movies-
Neverending. Timeless.

We are the virus,
The disease ridden art of perfection,
eroded by a cancerous cyst,
turned a whiter shade of pale,
paper thin beauty in a beholders eye,
stifled laughs through blackened lungs,
drip fed tears through a wrinkled skin,
we see our dust start to fall,
prelude turns to interlude,
our truth and destiny,
the moth eaten robes of a transient soul.