We are all lonely beings
Lonely souls, a lonely mind
Eternally seeking and searching
For things we can never find

A memory of smiles and laughter
Washed away by the flood of sorrow
And the sense of immortal solitude
There was never a cheery tomorrow

We're all going to fade away
There'll be no one left to mourn us
Our bodies, our lives, our legacies
Will disappear into wind and dust

Yet we still bother to create
To sing, paint, dance and twirl
To turn our cobwebs into gold
All in hopes of a better world

Live your life , enjoy your life, love your life . I don’t wanna die knowing I didn’t live my dream and was all that I wanted to be in life . It’s starting to become more clear to me that if I don’t do what I love and what’s meant for me I won’t be happy . I’m never happy doing something I’m forced to do you shouldn’t feel forced you should want to have a certain career not be forced into it and hate it and waste your life etc I know I love to sing , act and dance I know that’s always been in me it’s my dream . What I need is a manager someone who knows what they’re doing , someone who has connections . Connections are important in this industry . I know I’m gonna make it if I keep trying at least I can say I never gave up . I’m never giving up on myself or my dreams again . **** dreaming I’m trying to manifest and create my own reality .

Locks cannot contain the force
That innately exudes from every being
So nurture it,
And allow it to consume you
Create fully,
With every facet of your heart
In order to achieve
True nourishment of the soul

Let there be colour
Let there be shape
Let the air be filled
with sound and scent

Let colours and shapes
Let sounds and scents
be blended together
with roaring intent

Go soak in the sights
and relish the shapes
go embrace the new
come and escape

Create fearlessly
So that music and poetry may speak
Let it grow and flow
To the rhythm of its own beat

Love with no filter
For the world is in dire need
Be kind and find
The wonders that arise from a good deed

Not ev-ree-wún can put words down
In stanzas and lines
And make them rhyme.

Not ev-ree-wún will pour out
Their hearts on a page
To clear out the rage.

Not ev-ree-wún wants to write
When they are in pain
Depressed or afraid.

Not ev-ree-wún can be honest
With themselves
And write about how they feel
About something or someone else​
Or even themselves.

Not ev-ree-wún can be creative
Not ev-ree-wún can tell the truth
Not ev-ree-wún can be a pow-it.

Imagine your hand is
one hundred days older
Than the hand you use now.
Look at your hand.

What will that hand hold,
in one hundred days from now?
What will that hand have push away
that changes the next one hundred days?

Your hand is younger than it is now
than it will be in one hundred days.
In one hundred days, this hand will
mould and shape and change each way.

This hand is the age you are now,
and this hand is not eternal.
This hand helps you to write and pick up
what you need; reflexes from danger, sometimes.

One hand in one hundred days may be
marked, with a burn or scar or a tattoo.
The other hand may be softer, because
you wore gloves or moisturised by choice.

Or maybe this hand in one hundred days
Will be blistered, from harm you fought with wonder.
Maybe this hand is a blessing forgotten
And you reach for another coffee.

So why are you so focused
on what happened one hundred days ago?
The hand moves, clenches, rests, changes,
like time too.

I want you to be the paint that drips on my canvas
our bodies brush to create something beautiful

Nature takes lovers back as if to create them a second time
Anyone deserted might be inspired; that fierce, soaring, object-less love
Perhaps the most ancient of sufferings finally grows fruitful for us
Isn't it time we lovingly freed ourselves from the beloved?