now is just a thing
to do between birth and death
i am among gods

If you cannot find strength to keep pushing along
On the right track or wrong
The beliefs and feelings you believed you once knew
All that in your mind the only thing stopping you

I would like to figure out why I was blessed

With the talent I write my words with

But that is impossible to answer

Not impossible like "how?"
But a close second

My rhymes may never be important

As paying taxes owed

So I will do my thing over here not expecting a thing in return

I thought I was
A bungalow filled
With webs
Then I met you
A son
A light
A star
In between the suburbs
Of my healing
Its hard to explain the contractions
Of my veins and arteries
Coz the excitement
Registration is new to my
Heart
Mixed signals squeezing my
System to chuckle
Blush and giggle
I think am in Love again.
So my burial was birth
To this beauty
The kissing of smiles
Chucks of imagination
I can't clearly tell coz you know
You can't keep throwing stones
When you own a house of glass.

her name was season
she could change four times.
her name was silver,
they called her dime.
her name was motion
she came, and went.
they called her good-time,
money well spent.
her name was legend
villain, hero, lover, and friend.
she left with everything,
that's how the story begins...

One last poem
One last cigarette
One last beer then I’m off to bed





















Wait, wait!
Just one more thing to get off my head

could you turn left?
no
could you turn right?
no

do you know?
the grow
fear was planted

at every side
what i do?

pray to the finder
who gets the creature

do not be proud
kneeled so down

asking for help
one thing

look inside
look and talk

save us my God

within the grit of the gentle white
buried within the ***** of the roots
lay life between its silent slumber
while the outward burns to frost-ly breath
all the buds lay in cozy sleep
some think that Tis time to outshine
while the rabbits lay burdened to sleep
and bud and bloom midwinter too soon
their jealousy their end their doom.
as time makes brittle corpses of the children of sin
when the sun melts through the dense white reality
The well-rested princes and princess do rise

It’s better to cover your ears.

It’s better to just close your eyes.

It’s better not to hold on to anyone.

It’s better if you will not feel any single
pain that I have been ignoring

this whole **** time.