I don't sludge through
Through the tripe

          Of others..    

I'm no **** to another's words.

     I only like what is pleasing to my
Eyes.

       I'll never sleep upon another's words      
        to gain syllable reflections...

If you write in manners of worth,
       I'll read every word.  

But I'm no where of vocal stares,
       If you read me it's cos you gain
                   Something from my words .



If you only came here for pity reads...


       Well guess what.
               This isn't a pity stop.

Read me for my worth because
       I'm the better view.
            No pity view i'm
                
The words who you,d  wish
                                you'd read.

I
Want
To write
A poem
About things I know
Numbers and mathematics but
People don't like maths
It's boring
It's just
Hard
Work.

Like rain it makes them grow, just simple feelings to torrents.
Like a small breeze, brushing on the surface, they change the calm emotional ocean into a death trap for the poor thinker.
Like a match stick, lit to a can of perfume, the stink of ******  smell raises as it brought to a thunderous explosion.
The ravernous bear, calmed, the harmless cat made a killer, all by simple them

They can't be touched, no evidence seen, only aftermath, a horrid trail of destruction,
Of mountains trampled, of volcanoes quenched, of seas dried, and of desers made gardens,
all due to syllables joined together, words

The riverboat floats
Following the stream
To your mind; a dream

You make me feel things.
Be my lover, be my heart.
I just adore you.