Don't come near me, for I may burn
You have aroused my passion, my innermost feelings You have broken my walls, I'm defenceless Yet, I am strengthened by your love Your touch has filled me with a desire My heart is lit with your fire In you, I have found the spark of life You have revealed all my concealed fantasies Yet, I am at ease at your presence Hey charmer! Don't make me fall in love if you're gonna make me cry Don't smile at me, if you're gonna break my heart Don't say those words, if they aren't true Hey Charmer! I am soft and tender, treat me like a flower I am loving and caring, all I ask is your love! Please don't hurt me!
I will never lose faith in humanity
Faith is illogical And I try my best to be logical I never had faith in the first place
I will not apologise
For what I thought was right However, I will apologise For any and all fright (Boo. I'm not that scary)
aaaaaaand that's final
The corner street awaits with pride
Raise the palm and wave me hello As the eyes melt reveal your heart The smile is the manipulating trap A stance you gaze magnifies my life Stay in the zone oozing not snoozing Disengaged in bases of sinking shells Float on the wavy stretchy topography Claim my proponent inside the rigid iris The splash of the canvas sprays attraction Alternate the kaleidoscope fluid flashes A slash, smashing my scepticism cynism Untitled spiking depths and radiant flames Erode past the sizzling chargrilled grins It's in my eyes, my very soul sits and shines
For once this dreamer has some knowledge -
That some of me was made in you. My wariness is natural - To know a creator is a great thing, A thing not to be taken lightly. What kind of church shall I build for you? What kind of worship should I devise? A blanket over sand for an altar? Hymns of gulls and passing breezes? Black olives and red wine certainly. Should we come together casually? Or more often than not meet distantly? Just as in a poem - The way we first did - The way perhaps my fates will have it so. And what name shall I give you Under my breath where the real words hide? What trickling liturgies shall I devise, Disguised in plain clothes and habits, As if the tongue had no memory? But know my constancy, creator, believe This subject has some ontology. Difficult as it is to be Your secret sect, there is perhaps Some future yet where bells may ring.
Who am I ?
Can I ever aspire to touch that shining spot, Suspended in the entirety? This base form is bound. Every agent a shackle; Every constant a fetter. And 'this' the final frontier beyond which lies the ever unattainable. I am but a constituent; A byproduct. An aberration. And such shall never surpass the goal of ordinance. Or seek to know more than that which is due. For futile is this search And that which I hope will ensue from it.
— The End —