I’ve been in every angle of love.

Love is not good.
It doesn’t matter which viewer you are,
It’s just not good.
I’ve been the one who gives,
I’ve been the one who receives,
I’ve been the the one who gives and receives,
I’ve even been the outsider.
And none of them feel good.

Now I’m with someone that,
For the first time,
Embraces more than I do.
And it’s funny, because I don’t love him.
I like him,
But I don’t love him.
And I don’t know why.

Whenever he searches for my hand to hold,
I smirk,
Or when looks at me, asking for a kiss with his eyes,
I melt.
And when we sleep together
It’s never for ***,
It’ll never be for ***,
We only go to bed when we want to go to sleep.
And when he puts his arms around me,
And lies his head on the back of my neck,
I grab his hand, and fall asleep.
Now I’m a huge snorter,
I snore in my sleep,
Pretty badly by the way.
But I never snorted when I slept with him.
And it’s funny how my soul doesn’t burn when he comes to my mind,
Instead it reboots and buffers around,
searching for something that’s missing.

The love and passion that I have for another man.

I want to please you
In every way I can,
I don't think you know me,
But I think I know you,
And that's okay my dear,
I am always watching,
So I strut,
I cuss,
I swear,
That I can't ever leave you!

Look right into my eyes,
They gaze with torture,
Please don't forget the ****
That makes your heart twitch,
I just can't walk away,
With all of this gay,
So I must,
I dust,
I know,
That I will always be here for you!

Look into the mailbox
Of broken dreams you had,
They seem so chill now,
Don't you wish you conquered them,
Please examine all the letters
Which happen to bear no date,
So I fuss,
I cross,
I die,
In the waking moment, oh,  for you!

For centuries to pass
I deliver your weakness now
Burn in this festered hall
Of endless aspirations,
Grab your chest tightly,
Prepare for your death,
So I cut,
I stab,
I pull,
All of the love I have for you!

That is my death now,
Ethereal beauty,
You don't have to apologize,
You've already burnt him,
You can't release me,
I am more than weak, Beth
So I flaunt,
I touch,
I take,
All that I can from you!

I want to leave you
In every way I can,
Oh now you know me,
Oh how I know you,
And that's okay my dear,
I never watch now,
So I ****,
The trigger,
I end,
the bullet pierces my brain for you!

Calamari float,
changing tack,dive inwards quick,
life's contrary turns!

Watching alone, the world in perpetual motion
from the view point on my balcony,I see  the beauty!
my eyes catch her and her's mine,I say this to myself
"Some thing humane in these days of stares and scares"
While she flies a kite from the high rise opposite,
the protest,challenge and the revolt in that act was evident,
she made sure,that  I didn't miss the political point.I am sure.

Her kite, navigated with such consummate skill,fell near me,
My eyes read this message on her face "Rescue me from the beast"
wasn't it really an expedition to find the beast in question!
Fascinating specimen was he!I was taken in by his narration.
As a better narration commands merit,I did honor, kept quiet.

“Nobody owns life, but anyone who can
pick up a frying pan owns death.”
– William S. Burroughs

Through a door that is not mine
that’s left ajar from time to time
we see a man with zany eyes
scarred-up face, mouth full of lies.

Through a window at an ungodly hour
the night our neighborhood lost power
we see the man pull on a mask
and knit the weavings of his task.

I should have gotten quite the scare
when he pulled that woman by her hair,
then tossed her in the hole he’d fill
and quickly cover with daffodils,

but I’m no stranger to playing detective;
his plots have proven rather defective.
A call to the cops brings a rap on his door
that eventually leads to the lush garden floor.

Now, I don’t think I’m deserving of fame
my ego is simply much too tame
but I have kept dark things from view
and you listen well, so I’ll share with you.

There is something you should recognize
in that man with zany eyes;
don’t always believe what you’re told to see,
for he who plants the daffodils is me.

I seem to be losing my mind.

I hear faint screams,
In the middle of the night,
They sound like my mother's,
Everyone says I am imagining it,
I seem to be losing my mind.

I see bruises, marks and scars,
On the face of my mother,
Dad says it's because she fell down the stairs,
Mother must be very clumsy,
Or I must be losing my mind.

I was supposed to have a sister,
But we lost her,
T'was fate, tells grandmother,
And no it wasn't she, who pushed mother,
I am just losing my mind.

I don't know,
I died a year ago,
I said things I shouldn't,
You see, I lost my mind after all.

You are killing me

you make my heart twist.

Maybe you and I could be "we"

perhaps I can finally be kissed.

War of the words from the very word "GO"
was the warming up exercise for more malice,
makes the galleries erupt in rage, cry for more
But the folks that adore  peace is outraged
every jab finds it's mark, squarely on the jaw
making profuse bleeding another spectacle
we reinvent this business  as a blood sport!

Even a  dog eat dog madness grips the arena quick
each vicious animal bares it's fangs, for long in disuse,
get ready to be paid in return,in what you gave first
Raise the war cry aloud,  boys the game is on,
no going back any more, it's fight to ****

Every bit of the act is blown out of proportion,
by the heartless lot of blue eyed boys with lenses.
It pays to narrate  stroke by stroke,pouring oil
into the roaring fire, let it rage the longest period,

Merely the tip of an ice berg, all this you've now  seen
hidden with in the barbed diatribes is lethal  power,
things they hope would get heated too soon,
and would become a full blown "COLD WAR"

It's the post truth world of puzzles and games,
every such story ends in  a tragic twist at the end.
for us it'snot,we need a twist to make us smile.