We had a mission, but
We didn’t know.
It was like the dialogue
Wasn’t there, or
We skipped it.

After leaving the
Second floor as
Stallions
I threw the core
Into disarray as he
Became a lizard.
While I was monkeying
Around I found
The cure
To then hear
A cry for help.

The objective made
Itself known
As I followed the
Neighs to outside the
Armory wall my horse
Friend found himself in.
The elevator doesn’t like horses.

The objective asked
What we were doing.
“Just horsing around!”
He said.
“Gross.”

True love is not a word to recite, but an emotion that your heart is concealing.
Lovers express love all the time, but those are just,
thought to be feelings.
How does one even know,
if it is love for thee they are feeling?

Some lovers are love drunk all the time,
but once awoken,
with hatred they are dealing.
Is that the irony of love?
or is it the lust of the flesh,
that kept you wheeling?

You can’t blame love for what you do,
if not for love,
life would not be appealing.
It is this four letter word,
when truly felt,
to every soulbwill bring healing. Other than that,
all words are simply to your heart teasing.

Your heart may have many beats, but only one tune,
will leave you kneeling.
Look for what I call a wise love, and set aside what to your eyes may seem pleasing.
The painting that is today flamboyant,
tomorrow will be dull and displeasing.

staring at myself
and for the first time in
years
i see her
light, the joy, the spark
she’s back
ready to embrace it all again

My rock, so strong and true,
Together we've faced storms, but we push through. Our flame burns bright, never to fade,

Destined to stand tall, unafraid.

Through thick and thin, we've stood side by side,

In each other's strength, we always confide.
Like twins, we're connected, bound by fate,
Our bond so strong, it can never break.

So when doubt creeps in, and shadows loom,
Remember our strength, like a flower in bloom. Trust in yourself, and trust in me,
Together we'll conquer, just wait and see.

It was not supposed to be that way.
No green-purple spots in my eyelids, I said,
said
no graveyard asphalt on the back of my knees.
It was supposed to approach me modestly,
quietly,
with blushing fingertips and eons of time.
I had imagined it would approach me modestly.

In the meantime, I could visit a brothel
or two
***** my heart out, spread open its capillaries.
Poetry is prostitution of the lewdest kind
and how lovely, while I **** my paragraphs
to eat a man
or two?
There was one
with hardened fingertips and no more than a second to spare.

I had imagined it would approach me plainly.
No sifting through mounds of shell and bone, I said,
said
no puppet shows.
No masquerades, and my veins were supposed to do their job.

This was supposed to be my play,
my knight takes rook,
my girl takes respite.
I was supposed to come out golden.

He was not cruel but it seeped out of him
like mustard gas.
Sickly, yellow,
I inhaled it with relish
acid burned its way down my cheeks
through my chest.
And how beautiful, to love and be loved
without feeling it crush your lungs.