My hands allowed this head to hang back,
and her arms were of an awakened soul.
Sun rays haloed her body,
and so it felt Ceremonial.

She looked to me, though still, leading the way.
she'd gone, changed the day and changed her time.
so, as we prepared to walk the line
we held each other and closed our eyes.

Here you go again ,  kissing my face
holding me in your hands, closer
we've been here a million times,
yet we just barely met in this life
tho your laugh rings through me
all i can think about is how perfect
your kisses go with this song,
and that one. albums lying by the bed
when the rain washes me clean
youre there, shaking in our thunder
quivering, my body, holding you

On wings of phoenix, I ride,
Burn and fall to ashes,
Born from the same.
Unsung rhymes of the past,
Lie buried beneath,
A new life yet again to tame.

Ember eyed look from above,
To the earthly and mundane,
Curious, but all in vain.
Memories yet again eclipsed,
Time's war against youth realised,
A hope grounded insane.

Ignorance- the blissful art,
I follow throughout,
Inadvertent and intentionally.
Washed of all impurities,
Chaste and innocent,
A feeling so saintly.

New memories lived,
Some I survive,
And some wage a war.
Celebrated years of youth,
A new learning,
Steadily, I move to the distant star.

On wings of phoenix, I ride
Absolutely blissful,
And eternally blessed.
I rise again,
The freshness of the waves,
Yet again loved and caressed.

There you are again,
you old, reincarnated love.
Showing up in new faces
and handing me a token
of your affliction:
your half-empty glass,
a leaf ripped from its limb,
your one-way ticket to a place
I won’t be.

Here we are again,
walking down the street
under wet trees and lit balconies
as if we’re falling in love.  
You try to convince me you’ll
stay this time,
but I see the itch in your skin
to leave as soon as you realize
I recognize you.

And I do.
You’re a fiery first-kiss.
A five-day affair. Maybe this time six.
A reality check.

Light beams and a car horn
shake me awake.
A squeeze around the waist
indicates you’re still lying
beside me in bed.
I preemptively wince in pain.
Any minute now.

You pass through that door
like anyone would,
but I know what your
“See you soon,” means.

I died in the black and white of the Great Depression
I died in the blast of Hiroshima
I died in the forests of Vietnam
And none of them knew who I was
But when I died in America’s recession I was lying on the pavement
And my head was sticking out my cardboard smoking a cigarette
Pleading for a second chance at life, another birth to come out of a hole

I was bleeding to live the life like others
Marrying together and Christmas was every other year
When my tears fell apart at the sight of my children opening their gifts
All the things I made for them and Christ, are you listening?
I’m blessed at the moment and nothing is wrong

They asked if I believed
They asked if I hoped
And they asked if I prayed
And they asked if wanted to come back to earth
And I told them all I never thought I could exist again

III.
Kiss me goodbye with the sound of a drum
every beat resonating into the cavities of my lung

Will the coffin to close and seal my disconsolate contempt
and the pending air will allow one ***** to be exempt

Celebrate the song of my ironic demise-
but only if you remember, I'm not the one who dies

IV.
This lung has seen more shadows than reprise-
but abides by the silent cries of silhouettes' eyes

This lung has been ravaged time after time-
the story why its poison is long past its prime

This lung has tasted obscurities darker than your endeavor-
so raise it up to the sky and it will thrive forever

Take this lung into the palm of your hand-
and absolve it from death without a command

I.
I am my own shadow
I observe my own flaws
I recall my own prospect
and I eradicate my own laws

II.
The rhythm can batter me with the touch of a hand-
     but only if the world can detach itself from demand
And the music can strip both ears from my head-
      only when demons chose the daylight instead
Contradictions can paint me a macabre visage-
      if descriptions will lay their ambitions to image

Many legends there be back in days of old;
Legends of bold knights upon their noble steeds.
This be a tale starring a knight and his steed
As one and the same.

'Twas in the Renaissance city of Poitiers
The prodigy of a holy knight was born;
Sir Nathanëal of the Salomon bloodline,
Lineage of victors.

He bore the heart and voice of an archangel
And the loyalty of a priest to his God.
No other horse he rode but his first and last;
Dear "Divinitus."

Alas, his loyalty had cost him dearly
In the midst of the Battle of Moncontour.
Thus came the end of Nathanëal Salomon.
Or so it had seemed.

By the hands of benevolent sorcery,
Nathanëal and Divinitus lived again,
This time sharing a peculiar physique
Of both man and horse.

Thus, blessed with fur of white and a mane of gold,
Well-equipped with lightweight armour and claymore,
He walked the outskirts of France slaying evil
As both knight and steed.