Most hated places i hate to leave.
Very few in square meters a rectangular shaped
It has its own environment from a tungsten tomas made sun
Probably Tesla if they had not shaken hands on things

Cage for a man of my diameter
One of the hottest places on earth
Even under the rain,
Tesla ensures sweats
Yet, they are not felt
, And dancing manoeuvres are limited

The portal for all
To travel from bigbang to sven suns
To discharge all emotions
To refresh and recharge
And the witch doctor to all evil

Second to none
Prehabs to the berth which is all angel
Yet, this portal known to both evil and angel may be the most underrated places in universe..

i know well the fear as it manifests
in the dampness come night
dollar bills burn hot in pocket
the reddened skin of my inner thighs
fights to fray the cloth, but i
i'm better off sleeping in my pants
and my shoes, as to evade
then this thing clicks and the misfit
cuts come to fall into plan
by design, without fail, buy and sell
then there's me, this thing replete
with confidence in its destruction
by its hand, or on demand, its a
matter of course                  lightbulb!

I'm just a lamp.
You're just a bulb.
I give you power.
You give me light.
I stand tall and strong, waiting to be used.
You roll around, fragile, easily breakable.
Together we ignite something beautiful, that makes the world a little brighter.
It's nothing magic, just how we were wired.
One day I will fall, my intricate shade will crack.
My solid base absorbs the shock, so you remain intact.
Turned loose from me, you're ******* back into the old lamp from the closet.
Amazing, it still lights up, covered in dust and cobwebs.
A little warmer, yet a little more dim.
The only problem now, is that lingering scent, of burning dust and cobwebs.

She was like a maze
I tried many ways
Sometimes the gates
Locked my way
I still wanted  to solve the maze
Because her love
Brought my broken bulb
To shine again.

The love she gave me
Made a broken light bulb
Shine in my dark world.

Ideas
that I have yet to form
are already at the tip of my tongue.

So, so close
am I to finding out what my next imaginary tale will be.

There it is,
I see it.

I'm reaching out,
the tips of my shaky fingers graze the warm glass.

I stretch,
and stretch,
and stretch.

I fall,
it falls and shatters, too.

So, so close
was I to finally knowing what my next dream would be.