Suddenly, from a distant past,
my eyes flash with recollection:
I've been here before --
Not to say another life, but,
another moment in time.

How do I defeat the enemy,
when the pattern -- mistake,
ownership, and growth --
keeps repeating?

Do I keep emulating
this useless thing,
when the distance I see,
or at least seek, shows
no signs of an enemy?

***** nilly sillies
point flagrantly
at every happy clown,
wagging finger, dismayed,
sending to wind "For shame"s.

Historians have always known,
you could always leap frog
the copy/pasted placement
of seasons as if to say
we're changing.

One person's happiness
is the next one's disaster.

Think other thoughts.
You're a master.

I am no one's master,
Or ever wanna be.
I am free, and you are free.

So take caution if you
follow me.
You are still on your own road,
but still,
I will give you a hand when I ascend,
And I will call you over if you stray.
But you don't have to fall with me.
You chose your own way.

Master has a new slave.
For years I've went from one diamond to another with no penny for my services.
Dug holes and buried daffodils,
Dug holes and buried daffodils.
Carried by the spirit that shall give life to my children,
Children to children's children.
I've worked the way of a slave and never let my master carry a *****.
'though time told too many stories of the previous slaves,
I hoped mine was that of the history pages.
The blood drips on my cold knees as I crawl the dark for a meal,
She usually brings me something nice,
Oh master what are we having tonight?

The master's table should be kept clean at all times,
We don't want master eating dirt, alright?
Master is late for her food tonight,
It must be a busy night.
She usually utters of her unwell businesses, I believe she is tired.
I feel the chains on my feet being loose,
Master won't like this one bit.
The trees tell tales of the old berries,
And those that bury often get buried by no one.
Master smiles and tells me to run as she holds a gun counting to ten.
I'd run a bit more faster but my feet are swollen and needs healing.
As the trees come closer, darkness comes to sight and master smiles as she sends the new slave to bury my corpse.

There's an artistic sensuality to what she does luring with the eyes and capturing with the body, each motion a painters stroke on a master piece she is a master of her craft both artist and art. She will burn you to the core and bring forth your rebirth from the ashes, she is a phoenix she is a goddess, she is perfectly imperfect

I question wether heaven has gates
and if the Devil is their master.
If his fingertips has the power
to leave me out of paradise.
If he will turn me down
for what my mind has made me do.
Is there a reason they tell me to **** you
Was there a reason for this madness,
this chaos in my head.
I think there is but
will the Devil let me in?

the lack of emotional control
taking the toll
is there any magic quill
to keep'em from spill?
as the emotions not appreciated
your value for sure is depriciated
with all honesty is when you say
all you get is pushed away

i try to keep check but always fail
follow that very trail
towards a deep dark hole
sinking my whole
another disaster!
why the hell can't i master?
the art of mastering the thoughts
the way i master my body parts.....