Heavy is the weapon that carries it’s victim’s blood –
Heavy is a ***** mind that eventually fills with mud;
Heavy are your eyes in a dream, like a sleeping prong,
Piercing your thoughts in the daylight; life lives short –
While the dreams we make of ourselves live long.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown,
Heavy is the crowd, hoping to see you down;
Heavy is the weight of love, to make your kids proud.

For by the blood of ourselves, the words of our tongue
Are the greatest weapons, to lift or bring others down,
Even as your dirtiest thoughts subtly attract so easily,
It comes from all being fully stained in our sin’s filth –
While your dreams are the length of your passions;
The measure you take to achieve them, lies in width.

Bearing the crown of responsibility; those below you,
Look you down, seeing your success without longevity.
Avoid the negativity, live in positivity, a life of wisdom,
Joy, & love – a legacy your young would be proud to be.

I have built a shrine to you in my ribs,
lit candles behind my teeth,
burned every whispered thought like incense
and let the smoke of you fill my lungs.

But you don’t see it.
You don’t feel the weight of my hands
pressed together in silent prayer,
offering devotion to a god that does not answer.

You move like gravity,
pulling me in,
holding me just close enough
to taste what I will never touch.

I know this is not love.
Love is given, love is known, love is a bridge.
This is something else—
a ghost, a sickness, a dream that refuses to die
no matter how many times I wake up.

I have dissected every glance,
read scripture in the way you say my name,
built entire galaxies
out of the empty spaces between us.

You don’t know what it’s like
to live inside a story
that only plays in my head.

You don’t know what it’s like
to have your name carved into the marrow of my bones
where even time cannot touch it.

You don’t know what it’s like
to starve for a love that does not exist.

And still—
I keep the shrine.
I light the candles.
I kneel.

Because limerence is nothing
if not the worship of something
that was never real.

A wise man has told me things that aren’t true.
A child has told me the secrets of the universe.

Knowledge is not limited to those with privilege and power.
Knowledge is often used to right the wrongs of those in control.
Knowledge is a tool that empowers the wielder with strength.

When wielded for good,
knowledge can be a pen to create.
When wielded for good,
knowledge can be a sword to protect.

When wielded by evil,
knowledge becomes a concealing blindfold.
When wielded by evil,
knowledge becomes a restricting rope.

Knowledge can create and protect freedom, joy, and even life.
Knowledge can be used to conceal and restrict the same things.

so we were by the gate
under a sky of stars
I stretched my hands and she held them
and they were warm
as warm as the red berries I plucked last summer
and she smiled
laughing, she jumped
from foot to foot, swinging her head
like a lovely little puppy biting a shoe.
"I love you" she said
and I looked at her
lifting the hair that fell over her eyes
I replied
"I'm very Thirsty".

A light shines so bright from the sky
Crashing down to earth, it explodes
Butterflies in my stomach, no, it's a rose

Growing until it reaches the heart
When it grew it turns into an art
I can't believe I am staring an art for free
A masterpiece that speaks of love and poetry

I was once a lost boy
Couldn't find joy
When you came, it all flipped
My heart beat, skipped

You are so beautiful
It can turn darkness to colorful
Like the sun that gives light
And the stars that shines the night

Everywhere I go, it reminds me of you
A mile away, what a view
Her voice is like birds chirping
I told you, my heart beat skipped, now it's working

I risk everything just to see you
Cause my sky rains but you paint it blue

Across how many times
In you, it only rhymes
Memories of us remains
Eternally, it locks with chains
Everlasting, I will keep all these pain

I don't mind meandering,
But I prefer it with you.
For the river doesn't travel alone,
It's swept up in the beauty of the trees,
Or the glassy grains of the sand.
Whether our path is wavy and wanders,
Or straight to the point.
I will find a certain joy,
In each meandering moment I share with you.

I have run barefoot through the gravel of my past,


let it tear at my soles,


let it whisper that love was a road meant only to wound me.

"I lost you."


Somewhere between the echoes and the empty spaces,


between the nights that stretched too long
 and the mornings that never brought you back.

I have sprinted through storms that cracked the sky open,


lightning lacing my ribs,


thunder pressing its heavy hands against my chest.

"I chased you."


Through rain that washed away the footprints,


through roads that led everywhere but home.

I have crawled through deserts of silence,


tongue thick with unsaid prayers,


sandpaper promises bleeding dry from my lips.

"I need you."


Not as a whisper,

but a cry.


Not as a choice,

but a gravity,

pulling me forward even when my legs don’t want to move.

And then—

there you are.


Standing at the edge of the horizon,


bathed in a light that turns pain into purpose.

"I choose you."


Because love is not just about running,


not just about wanting.


It is about choosing—again and again,


even when the road is unkind.

You are not a mirage.


Not a fleeting victory,


not a ribbon to break through and forget.

You are the breath I’ve been chasing,


the gold I have burned for,


the line I would cross again and again,


even if the journey shattered me.

Because what is struggle,


if not the proof that something is worth reaching?


What is endurance,


if not the language of love spoken in every aching muscle,


every ragged breath?

"I reach you."


At last.


At the end of every broken road,


at the edge of every impossible dream.

Let the miles stretch long,


let the night swallow the road whole—


I will keep moving.

Because you—


"I reach you."


You are the final step that makes the journey worth it.


You are the banner I break through,


the arms I collapse into,


the finish line of every dream I have ever dared to chase.

Joy is a little thing,
A warm luxury in the chill of winter's winds,
One sparkling treasure in the face of somber spring rains.
Happiness is a man,
Roaming the midnight city streets,
Tossing gold glitter all over the way as he skips along.
Pleasure, a soft blanket on your bed,
A perfectly placed pillow to rest your head,
A pencil that never runs out of pencil lead.
Everything is diamond when relief rears its head,
Assuring as the autumn breeze,
Pushing around stray sticks and leaves.