A hermit crab
In love with his bongo.
Scuffles on with his bongo beat.
Each thump filling the empty space
Around him.
He walks the hot concrete.
In search of something like home.
His shell dragging behind
Weighing him down.
The thump no longer loud enough
To move its tiny body.
The rhythm barely rattling around its
shell.
After a while everything can turn into a drag.
But still, he scuffles on.
He smiles, stopping to take a break
On the grass.
The concrete burning his feet.
His tiny claws scraping across the bongo.
He looks over to his left.
To find an old boot.
Nodding her head, tapping the ground
Following along to the beat.
Although weathered, she too smiled.
Echoing back his loud thuds.
Her sole cracked but full of life.
Life happens in the strangest way sometimes.
Two outcasts alone.
Drumming up stories without a word.
Scuffling on a bongo heart.
Life doesn't have to be a drag all the time.

The depth of his heart,
like a book shrouded in
mysticism,
wonder,
anticipation.
I flip through the pages,
until my eyes grow tired,
and my hand aches.  
The end nowhere in sight.
Whenever I almost put the book down,
I get a tiny insight into his heart.
Playing me like a fool into
short-term satisfaction,
and long-term despair.

We would be the best looking couple on the beach.  
You would be continually dragging me into  your
condo bedroom to **** me hard up against the wall..

and then dragging me back out onto the beach
to slap me under the cover of the breaking waves..

where no one can hear me crying like a little *****.


Only to become overwhelmed within the emotions of it all;
and dragging me back into your condo bedroom..


Ah, **** Babe..

My biggest fear was dying, nowadays it's feeling alone. It took me twenty-eight years to peer into the looking glass. Somehow, I found that my habits weren't so destructive. Overly mindful of my own disruption, I was dangerously close to doing nothing.

Struggling, searching for pieces long removed from its subject, led me to the mountains. Time unveiled its wisdom; the pain made me philosophical as the years escaped my grasp. Alas, as the years amassed and the veil slowly faded, I came to understand that trials and tribulations should never foster hatred. It's never too late to ask. Every path you tread should never be your last.

Perfected words whisper through me as the pain comes to an end, and I delve into the depths where habits lie shattered. Self-destructive patterns become easier to distinguish. I knew I could pursue some new beginnings if I quit being distant.

Picture me fitting in. Picture me painting pictures in sync, not as a victim. There are things that I've been missing out on.
I just haven't been living.
I relinquish my resistance—for me.

After all this time I'm still looking,
Which is good,
Depends on what you're looking for
And how long you've been looking,
Unless you've been waiting

maybe the point of arriving is finding one who´s just as lost

There's a girl I couldn't stop thinking about
She often smiles, she gives when she has none to give,
And she likes to do the right thing.

There's a girl I'll never stop thinking about
She winked, she took when I had nothing left to give,
And she liked what power could bring.

There's a girl in between that I sometimes forget
She did not talk, she had nothing to give,
And she liked to be honest in everything.

The girl I am is probably memorable
I flirt a lot, I give when there is something to get
I like a piece of each of them.

Where's the catch, where's the fairytale
I'm playing a game, all to no avail