If I were to collect then present
Each and every tear I cried
If I were to show
Every emotion I was told to hide
If I were to point out
The litany of moments where I lied
If I were to open up
Recalling the days I wished I'd died
And shamefully admit
The number of times I've tried
Would you be able to love me for me
And put the worst of me aside?
Don't worry if you can't,
The rides creator couldn't even finish the ride

©2024

Pay attention to what lengths one will go to
And still find themselves incapable of making it through
No push or pull through, both options taken off the table on a path of glue
Acknowledge the mental blocks that are constantly fought 1v2
Never told, so never knew
Sold a bad bag of repackaged goods labeled NEW
But these missing brighter days have an expiration on the carton too
As well as an enforcement of a curfew
That's never been required to pursue,
Yet they still do
While most never notice the touch of darkness lurking in their happy places too

©2024

May be simply unfair
But I punish
MYSELF
With no mercy
For goodness's shake

With full reliance
I stay afar from some people
Because
I wish to meet them
In next timeframe
In next dimension
In next pathway
In next lifetime
From the START

It's like this
NAMASTE

Oh how I hate art!
So much noise
And false pretenses,
Such undeserved poise
For those vain promises.

Sure, in everything there’s a message,
Yes, anything you want to acknowledge.

How I hate art!
For it is far too fragile
To dare play so smart
How I hate art!

Oh how I hate art!
Whether I’m missing the point
Or whether there was none;
Whether it isn't what it ain’t
Or whether it’s just for fun.

How I hate art!
For it cannot do otherwise
Than state the obvious
And pretend to be wise.

Sure, you’ve convinced more than a few;
Yes, they’ve all grasped your great value.

How I hate art!
The cliche, the glamour
The whole thing and the part,
Oh how I hate art!

If
You are
Ready


Welcome In


To
The new
Sphere

A sign of Respect to me is having the gratitude to acknowledge ones error without a preconceived misconception you are superior in anyway.

To those
Who are the infinite
To those
Who senses everyday magic
To those
Who dreams
To those
Who are like home

Lastly
To my own shadow
Who believed
The power of ink

Yesterday and always

Every time
They will ask
Who you are?

There is more
YOU
Behind
Who you are not

They just want
To know
The superficial

As deep as
What they are