Do not talk of the honey I pickled in your light bulbs

They do not have the map to help us reach The Alps

Just talk of the hungry flower growing on my lungs

At least they have the address to the hut on my palms

That’s drawn by the little girl who feasted on the chalks

The butterflies long ago planted along in their pulse.


Quick,  


Incinerate the 1800s post-mortem portraits

In black light's faked midnight perfumes

For you are my forlorn apostrophe high on gas

That might ask questions while telling us your tales

Or reluctantly whisper ****** things about Laqus

Who is wasting us to the wistful hell flowers.

Why is it untitled? Because I haven't a clue what to call it.
I never thought I'd be doing this. I never thought I'd be so elated and relaxed.
I had only wished I would make it this far.
I had only wanted to go unnoticed.
Fitting in was all I was about, but I realised it was really about understanding and getting to know yourself better.

the days of feeling unappreciated had  come to an end.
It was all about me now.
Where I was going and how I was going to get there..

I anointed you with the essence
of my deepest love,
my  very being was poured into
your ultimate happiness.

My burning desire was for you
to be exalted to your best,
to be in a realm where you could
surpass mere mediocrity.

Where you could encompass the
totality of unending intensity,
feel the burning emotions
etching your heart and mind.

I afforded you more
than the Lion’s share!
With  me, you could have
walked taller than any man!

As I feel my mind romp
Ceaselessly into the past
I twitch to it's sight
And I know I'm scared
All my happy thoughts
Are interrupted by obscure memories
Dark, grey flashbacks
Reminding me that I'm chained
To a world of immense pain

Helpless and crushed
I seek a permanent solution
I attempt to find peace
In what the world offers me
Indirectly, I'm sitting upon
Invisible dough of deceit
Concealing it's strategy to defeat me
Reminding me that I'm chained
To a world of immense pain

The chains are visible now
A keyhole appears in clear view
The more I allow fear in my thoughts
The more the keyhole diminishes
So I give my first shot at faith
Believing first, forget seeing
The master key to save me
Reminding me that I'm free
From a world of immense pain

So I've drawn up my conclusion:
I choose believing over seeing
That my inner heart be wholly converted
Than my eyes merely convinced.
For everything I see tells me not to believe
And everything I believe tells me not to see
The two contradict each other
So what do I choose?
Faith over fears
I'd rather believe then give into my tears.

I am a wanderer,
Searching for the somewheres,
In the middle of nowhere,
Taking in everywhere,
Entranced by anywhere,
Believing in whats never there,
Wishing I was elsewhere.

"So I choose believing over seeing. That my heart be wholly converted than my eyes merely convinced."
- Towela Kams

I feel something is missing,
Or lost, did I have it in the beginning?
I can't be succeeding, this feeling certainly isn't winning,
And even my grinning must come at a cost,
I've not paid the piper as such, but when he arrives he'll leave and take the lot,
Everything I've got is at stake,
Make no mistake, I take the hate seriously and leave my soul as bait,
But I can't relate to the feeling of calm,
Sweat holds my palm and leads my arm to the hot pool of harm,
This is no yarn I spin only the wheel,
The chain holds my heel keeping the steps from stepping on what's real.
It's time to heal but what is lost I've not found,
My flesh torn by hells hound, the paw pounds upon the ground whilst the deserted town fails to sing.
Am I lost or just missing.

The day I met you, I fell right into your trap.
All your compliments, gifts, words-
All lies.
I shouldn't have believed anything.
I should've believed my friends.
Even though all my tears were because of you,
I can't stop wishing that you were still here,
right next to me.

I have the heart of a believer and the mind of a skeptic
Some say it's a gift, I say it's tragic
I live in a universe of chaos inside my head
Who among us is truly at peace but the dead?