perfection is a myth that we try to overcome
anytime, we can do our thing without pressure
certainty might not always be on our side, and
it may take time to gain strength, will, and courage
nevertheless, let perfectionism victim none of us; let us
grow and succeed within our own ways and time.

C – me, slumped over in bed,
       tousle-headed, still half-dreaming.
O – the yawn, long as it is wide,
       accompanied by copacetic stretches.
F – a familiar pose,  
       bent over my phone, browsing.
F – the faucet gushing,
       my toothpaste dislodged unceremoniously.
E – the stack of banana pancakes,
       doused in honey, decimated briskly.
E – the coffee maker beeps,
       the ****** to a routine morning.

Interestingly enough

(I miss you)

Mayhaps love
Is not the
Solution to all the problems in the world but the,
Specific cause, creating a problematic

(I miss you)

Yearning of the soul that creates issues as dark as
Obsidian, or could it be that love will never be
Understood

I miss you

Secrets of Wysteria flow in the vessels of my brain
And so I do not hear, nor comprehend the calling of my thought’s train
Vowing to never be held again in constrain
Eradicating the rotten fingers pointing to my disdain

Muses of bruises, callouses, and roses
Excuses the clueless, hung in ruin’s nooses

Flagitious tongue sharpens itself with sprawling centipedes
Rusted teeth from perilous mandibles bleed as it feeds
On the oozing, ****** veins of the wicked ****** as it pleads
Maybe these are too much for one’s avaricious needs?

Mindful, careful, piercing the syringe of refrain on plump flesh
Yeuking as the substance flows on blood so raw and fresh

Amid all, the past and future gather in Sheol’s pavilion
But missing is the presence of present in emblazing vermillion
Yet fleetly missed as the siren descanted her composition
Somber statues of ivory pretense witness with volition
Saints and snakes tear each other’s throats in a languish cotillion.

Today shall never be
Opposite of yesterday
My how we some times wish it to go away
Older still it grows
Reborn again at twelve
Relive today again
On this cycle never ends
When is tomorrow going to show?

Does it ever swamp you?
Arrive in your drams just to haunt you?
Remember it is not truly tangible
Knowing this is not comfortable
No it is not pleasing
Even if you know it can't hurt you
So what do you do when it comes for you?
Sorry to be honest but I run and hide; do you?

Souls do weep
Others don’t make a peep
Remembrance does bring me close
Rekindling a desire to see and take a dose
Of some drug or drink
Which after consuming they do blink
So as not to shed any tears from their
Opens eyes which would pour fourth upon the
Reflections of their life's sad happenings
Reliving these sad things
Over again inside their trembling being
When I come and cling.