I asked a thief
           to steal my heart,
            but was rejected.

For the thief said
      it had been already stolen.

Misconstruing what I meant,
   I wanted it stolen back..
But the thief said, what was given
                             cant be taken back.

Looking into my eyes,
        pulling something from beneath.
Giving me theirs, on this night you
                                have stolen mine.

That which I wanted stolen,
                          given freely back.
The thief no longer a heart taker,
    now proving there the love of my life.

Here I sit upon this train
As if again inside a dream.
Same people, same smell, same unknown stain.
Everything as it was or so it would seem.

Outside a shattered cityscape flickers by,
A million metal mountains that hold us all.
They reach, as we reach, toward the sky;
And we, not them are more apt to fall.

Something cold takes hold of my brow,
Returning me tersely to the present.
I fell asleep against the window somehow.
A pillow or porcupine might’ve been more pleasant.

I guess I dozed off when I got on.
And now my wallet and phone are gone.

i never even got to see your face
and you never gave me the chance to explain
that whatever you were looking for i had none
from behind you stabbed me
taking the life out of me just to score some

scrambled through my pockets
as i lay in my pool of blood
trying to reach for my daughter's locket
just to stare at it for the last time

you found no treasure on me
i was just a broken soul
trying to put life's pieces together
just a poor man

now a dead poor man lay at your feet
and you had no benefit
is you satisfied?

Like a thief in the night,
It steals all of my things,
Searching for joy,
Parts never to be seen.

Like a thief waiting to ****,
It waits for its chance,
Not moving a muscle,
Completely still.

Like a thief in my life,
It steals my character,
It ruins my sight,
Clouding reasons behind why I try.

Like a thief in desperation,
It will steal them for ransom,
Being susceptible to the temptation,
Unaware of the reigning phantom.

Like a thief of my heart,
It begins its deception,
Always taking part,
Destroying perception.

Like a thief of the cold,
It makes you unable, old,
Instead of bluffing you’re forced to fold.
Wishing of poverty being foretold.

Like a thief in the day,
It turns your vibrant colors
Into,
Gray.

At the money table, Cain and Abel, Abraham and Isaac,

And neither one cares how you’ll pay as long as it is not a check,

Brassy appendages obversely curl to abruptly angular truncated legs-upon-his-lek,

And the proof of who he represents hangs weightily about his Plouton neck,

See the cotton-wafer stacks shuffled as bricks in rows to the translucent deck,

The waiver now giving its woe whence once wished-for upon the Great Molech?

Mr. crooked hook-nose at his compose will take on any bet,

As Sheol will have it, many lament, being in his debt,

A Canaan cursed and tribal descendant, the relative of Set.

For with misery and suffering well you get what you beget!

Your sentences were gated,
And locked within your lungs -
Your words forbidden fruit to me,
The apple of your tongue.
The uninspired oft’ find it hard
To leave another’s song unsung.

So I harvested your phrases -
I burglarized your breath,
And nurtured all your laden words
‘Till there was nothing left.

And living with your hollowed words,
I died a stolen death.

Love is a thief.
I never asked for my
focus to be stolen.
You never meant to
take it from me, I'm sure,
but its gone now.
I've always said love should be a synergy of
two whole people. Despite this claim, I find myself
newly unwhole. I lust for wholeness.
You cliched me.

Love is a humaniser.
All my life I've been
an alien, grey specimen
trapped and bound in pale white skin.
I've never felt comfortable in this form.
I want to be light, energy, flowing out of here
and through the world
and the stars and all.
Only, you
make me now feel human.
Breath comes easy.
I still yearn for outer space,
but maybe we could go together.
If you wanted.

Love is a would-be assassinator.
It possesses your mind and your fists,
a dark green spirit. It targets wandering
eyes, and it loathes
replacers.

Love is a fear of inevitable "see you later"s.

Love is an all-conquering now.
The past is dead and
the future isn't real
but we believe in those illusions
until we come together.

Love is half-burnt coffee on a dark November morning, as mist haunts the air outside of the old kitchen we inhabit.

Whoever said time heals all wounds is a fool.
Time is a thief.
He waits until you are your most vulnerable.
He waits until you are alone.
He waits until you are content with life
and that's when He strikes.
He'll corner you in the dark on your best-known street.
He'll beat you and He'll beat you.
You will wish you were dead
because you don't think you can take much more.
And still He'll beat you and He'll beat you.
And then, He will give you a break.
As soon as you catch your breath
He'll begin to beat you and He'll beat you.
Until finally, you've had enough.
And Time, well, He just laughs in your face.
And whispers, but oh so loudly, that you will never heal.
He whispers that He will see you soon
to beat you. And He'll beat you.

"can you feel it?" i said,
looking into the dark.
"what?" they ask with no idea.
"time, it's stealing us away".