Why am I so **** hard to swallow?
Again and again repeat
"You're just too strong."
What does that even mean?
Like black coffee?
You just have to acquire the taste...?

Do I have to dilute myself with heavy cream?
Will I be bearable then?

I am ineffable
and you'll choke a little every time you realize
I don't always have enough sugar.

26 | 31 Poems for August 2017

These pictures sharpen the edges of blunt memories.
All I ever wanted was for you to feel my words like Braille.
But somehow you were blinded by the sight of someone else’s love.
All I ever wanted was to be the poem written on the pages of your soul.
I constantly keep reminiscing about the days when I used to feel whole.
Whenever I’m feeling low, I get high off the thought of blunt memories.
I need love and freedom – I need to let you and all our memories go.
Our love is as deep as the ocean but I can no longer go with the flow.
I may never find a reality worth dreaming about if my heart is filled with doubt.
All I have left are these pictures of you that slowly sharpen the edges of our blunt memories.
If your blunt ever lasts longer than our conversations then I hope you’ll get high off the thought of you and me.

breaking it down is half the work
a step that must never be skipped
rolling it up in your leaf of choice
is a step that must be considered art
the first light is the most important
a step that is for the one who crafted
they should also be the first to enjoy it
a step the rest respect
eventually all power is seemingly gone
from the one who created
and everyone feels equal once their turn has passed
yet let us not forget the one who rolled it
for they are the one who has saved the rest

My love is reticent while beauty is blunt
I am down the drain she is on the front
Love is a deer which beauty is to hunt
For her graces I am ready to take brunt

Reflection of her beauty just takes life
Appreciating beauty I remain on knife
For her sake I do not mind any strife
But what I aspire is to make her wife

But like every thing beauty has a price
All my rivals do believe just to be bias
Enemy remains enemy how he be nice
With warmth of my love I will break ice

Col Muhammad Khalid khan
Copyright 2015 Golden Glow

Freedom is the trophy that many attempt to acquire.

The biggest quest along their lives' path.
Along the way, they give in to temptation, sin and desire.

They must face The Devils' wrath.
"Ye shall dance in my fire!"

It's time for bed
and the moon is hiding
perched on the dark clouds

It's time to sleep
and I cant tell how I feel
blunt with unseen quests

All is calm as I die
a float to the shift
a rhythm of the night

I am not all alone
as I these walls talk to me
in sweet trance sounds

A word mania taunts
of smoky hues in boulevards
thought and thorough penetrations

You ****** exotic,
beautiful creature.
Here we are again
I made sure to not be tardy this time
Which was easy since you moved ten minutes away
You called me seven times on the
walk from the parking lot, to your front door.
On the fourth call you mentioned pouring another shot of Jim Beam
So no, I will not be ******* you.
I am obligated to let you know I am a mess.
That is, I would have told you I am a mess
If you didn't mute me by providing more then enough proof it was mutual.
you said lets dump our boyfriends
date each other
Poly wouldn't be enough attention for you
Who have passed self destructive
into destroyed.
With your unzipped *** stained lingerie and ****** that I found
Still inside you.
you forgot it was there when you asked me to *******
the next morning
After my fifteenth no.

God bless that ******
Caution tape boon from some deity I should pray to more often.
Blessing me with one last chance to think before my actions.
That ****** saved me from any number of potential tragedies.
Yes I was disgusted
Not because the cotton string was mistaken originally for some sort of ***** rat tail.
Not because I imagined for a breif moment, a tiny sufficated animal
who got a little to curious.
Not because you were offended I wouldn't yank it out and ******* anyway,
instead of assuming it was a sign
I should stop my hands.
Go to bed.
Disgusted at myself.
if not for that magical used ******
from what I assume to be
the God of a full eight hours of sleep and
Inverted libido
I would have let myself be seduced Into spiraling back into ******* the pain away.

I've worked too hard at reminding myself who I am.
To let myself be the man who throws away the bruised hearts.
Or drowns them in a sea of bodies.

No.
Now that you've woken me.
Put your body away.
Now that you're sober.
Where is your heart.
Go on, get it.
Beautiful.
God is that a specimen.
Bruised from aorta to base.
Here's mine.
All purple and calloused.
Uncanny isn't it?


almost Identical