Amaze me,
Or maybe just phase me
Blast me in a hazey maze
With your hasty ways
And your phazers
Cutting me like razors
Erase her,
Till the time it pays - off.
And help yourself
To get so well
Getting out of
Your personal hell.
I'm progressing,
Can't you tell?

So much to say, so few words find my lips
It’s like I kissed a girl
And gave her all my words

At first I thought it was my breath
She took away

She spoke and I listened
In awe,
Of the way her sentences glided from
The back of her throat, tongue, teeth, lips-
Lips.

I once kissed a girl
And left all my words on her lips
Like some weird- ****** up- *******
Little Mermaid

She was Ursula and Prince Eric
Stealing my freedom
My voice but still
My captain, knight in shining armor

She was the prince
The sea witch
Everything I was warned of
Everything I still dreamed about

When Ursula took Ariel’s voice
She used it for another
But she used it for me
On me-
But the good words got used up

They were on a countdown timer
Without restart or pause
Then there were only bad words
Then none

I once kissed a girl and gave her all my words
Now I have none left.

And though we've all commonly been caressed by oppressive distress,
We're granted the opportunity
To Repossess
Our spirituality.

These are the rules that reign our domain.
i remember the day he asked me
"Yo, Boogz, you wanna run a session",
What the **** was he thinking?
****, I'll run it on a neurotic progression
Of this lyrical obsession,
Forget your indiscretion,
I'll leave your head knotting in impression
Have you second-guessing the oppression of this "session",
And embedded with my confessions,
No order or succession,
Personal expression is not my profession, but I think im getting clear to you

If you want meaning out of this,
Good luck I'm gonna need a C-section,
See, its all words strung together only identifiable by the person who wrote 'em,
Any questions?

Good, cuz i have one for you.
Have you ever seen a person with a soul glimmering gold
Who strolled down the wrong road?
A person who stowed such a load of mold
That he couldn't unfold,
And the end result was to implode?

Well I've met a lot of them. Including me.
In fact this room is full of them.
But we're not outcasts
unless we place that label on our skin,
There's too many good intentions fighting to win,
But its almost like we have this evil twin,
This Mr. Hyde that hides within,
It's actually a good thing the shell is thin,
And since we all share this downfall,
It doesn't matter what shade our skin is... we're kin.
Our tears run from eyes in the same que.
We've all been beat down,
Felt defeated,
Needed
To cry
But we all grow bolder,
Become generals,
And in order to be a general - first you gotta be a soldier.

I commend all men who ascend to the end,
Whose worlds of pretend
Transcended through the bends,
Twists, and all kinds of mends, to meet.

The ones who make are examples,
That we don't have to die.

The journey of a million tears,
Starts with that first lump in your throat.
It's only a speed bump.
You can get over it.
Your addiction.

Bartender,
I ask for a full glass of the elixir I asked you for before.
Something inside me cries, more then it did before.
Or ever actually
Weeks, and days, turn to hours, minutes, seconds, but still ripple of moments.
Moments that find me back here lusting for the poison that becoming, so becoming.
Maybe im here cause my father craved this chair.
Maybe im here cause he’s seeing my day become D-day, and not just today but everyday, all day and probably tomorrow too.
13 years old, crying for help,
a little boy appeared at his meadow of wisdom,
and all he says is  “have a drink with me”
So I drink, I drink some more, and I drink enough that now the foot of my bed
has become this wooden armrest where I meet a new neighbor by the hour,
My bed pillows have become this poison,
the only feeling that lays my head to rest, battles caged and blurred in routine, battles with the child inside me,
the man now, and everything in-between.