The length of the silk fabric.  
does not determine the quality.
It may be long,
or it may be shot.

So when you ask me about
the length of my poems
my answer will be
that I want to enjoy every word,
feel every sentence and
appreciate all of the fabric.

I want to walk in my golden years,
On the Cornish beaches’ warm gold sands,
Where my footsteps are unhurried,
And my route is seldom planned.

I want to sit on the wooden benches,
Overlooking those dark blue bays,
I want to breath in this fresh salt air,
Until the ending of my days.

I don’t want to become immortal;
Living for forever and a day,
I just want to savour life in this world,
No matter how long or short my stay.

I don’t want my life extended for the sake of it,
With no reason or rhyme,
I just want to live in the here and the now,
And enjoy this - my quality time.

Like bees to honey
are my anxieties to me
In subtle matresses
with sunken eyes
I percieve my neurotic dreams
my desperate aspirations
my misconstrued qualities
my blinded prophecies

I think I'm always meant to be a writer; in the way where I always see things in third person.

I guess the past boys I used to like were, in a sense, too flashy for me. At first, I don't know what they lacked that I had to stop. I'm looking for something but they just didn't have it. Maybe I'll know when I meet the right person?

So now, I'd rather stick to just observing the boys around me--those of potential love interest or not, like I do with every other person. The most recent boy was such a main character in many people's stories; he has main character quality, albeit only from afar.

I conclude I'm looking for a person who's like me; not exactly a writer, but someone who balances. A reader, perhaps? Someone who sees things in a third person perspective as well; someone who can read people, understand the atmosphere and we can watch and scrutinize over anything and anyone.

I'm not saying that the boys in the past were incapable of being observant, but maybe they just don't care about these things, in the way that I do. And I don't really want to waste my time on a person who's like that.  When you observe a reader, they sort of observe you back.

So, back to my most recent--he's just a main character, lolling about in a plot, used to being watched, and not being proactive enough to be another writer or reader. It's ironic, because there are supposed to be two people in a love story. Two characters are needed but I don't want to be in that situation because I don't think I can be "main character" enough.

I'd rather find myself a reader to match me, a writer.

I've learned something about myself after liking a person. Now that I think of it, I guess I am looking for that thing that sets non-readers and readers apart. It's just really obvious, to me at least, when you know a person reads or not.

The superficial factor is, which I'm sure everyone sees, if a person "looks" like a reader. But you'll only truly know when you interact with them. The reader's thoughts are beyond their "looks" as a reader and goes farther than the minds of non-readers.

There's no rush in finding a relationship, I guess. I believe the readers will find the writers they will want to read, even if they don't know the writers' names at first. They'll come across our stories and they'll feel like being a part of it once they've read; not in the sense where they feel like the main character, but how they understand the writer's thoughts through the plots of the story.

You can see it in one's eyes and we writers have this in-depth instinct in sensing out different types of people: bad, good, weak, strong, non-readers, readers, etc. I suppose sometimes we don't want to admit these things because of easily misjudging people, but it's a fact that's silently agreed on by almost everyone.

I'm really dead set on on finding that quality which will make me love a person, a reader. And so far in the boys I've met, I never found it. But that's okay, because I always find little bits of myself, even if it's just a bit, every time I don't find what I'm looking for in them.

It turns out I'm looking for my other self in someone else. I'm looking for a reader who can read, know and understand me.

In the heart of the fire a temple burns higher
Call me a liar
Do you believe the same as they deceive?
Instinct over spirit recieved
bested by the animalistic quality to falter from taking charge of the fallacy or to clear a path for the bard that beckons to be more than an aspect of frivolity
diminished by ecclesiastical polity
Thine ego spreads like a **** among the flowers growing faster with an unquenchable thirst for power devoted to consumption and the benefit of itself til sour and nothing else
Thus creating an afterimage that resembles all that we desire with all that we pretend to be
Half the ecstasy wired, that we could actually free higher from what comes naturally, divine to masters who wield compassion and invulnerable humility
as a weapon of civility
Surpass the masses' ability
Grasp the clasp of immortal nobility
Endire and outlast the harassment willingly to channel all the blessings of grace it will carry thee