Deep down,
In the ocean, sound
asleep is the most beautiful creature.
Though many have tried
None have survived
the life of searching
for the secret to where it thrives.
except
one man
with fire in his eyes
managed to contrive
some way to not think
and just dive.
And now, he is the only one that feels
alive.

maybe I do feel fearless
maybe what you're saying is true
but I do not see the trouble
in doing a little risky thing
or two

and what you don't seem to understand
or what you don't quite get
is that that the more you tell me not to
the more of what you said
I seem to forget

so excuse me for Living,
like I'm happy,
forgive me for ******* the marrow
out of every day

you tell me to be careful of the World
but what if I'm not afraid?

what if I was the World?

Her hair ran like a river down her
back.
An ocean of infinite curls
Or shall I dare say,
waves.
The enchantment would make of him a slave,
As soon as crave gave in to cave.
He saw her, and gasped:
the Altantic had never before looked so much
like a woman.

she wants to be fed beliefs
she swallows truths so sharp,
jagged,
that they scratch her throat.
But she doesn't care,
because
isn't this what she was built for?

The city gleamed with shiny
The lights blinding, in a good way
You finally understood that old song you heard your grandfather sing once
About a city that never sleeps
How would I fit into those jazz shoes, coming from my little town blues?
I was everything

this neighborhood,
thus far my kingdom,
where we ride our carriage
upon two wheels and a helmet
the royal banquet
we acquired at the local corner store;
on our heads:
spiky,
*****,
greasy hair.
We wear it like a crown, and that makes of us kings.

As her shoulder bared,
he stopped to stare.
Her words, were not words anymore
They were but vowels, and consonants,
etched together;
they were only music as her skin shined
his eyes followed, as his ears stayed behind
until he couldn't hear her no's
Now, they were only sounds
And he, was only bone

her thighs
don't  touch
And her mouth
stays shut

the other day, as i walked down the town
i saw a spiral staircase.
Like a snail's shell or a
hurricane,
the spiral seemed to lead you up, but down
at the same time
so I crawled down the spiral hole,
only to find myself lifted, above all ground

The mirror used to look at you like a snake
A predator
People often mistook your shouting for help as a
Hip, or a hooray,
When your hips shimmied across that floor
Black, and ***** with joy

the room was dusty, but not really
It had a sort of
feeling
associated with children,
chalk, and water drops

we composed
each centimeter
of the circle
on the floor.
we sat down in our differences
and in our union.
in the sentences that made us brothers,
and the words that made us more like distant relatives,
cousins;
distant, maybe, but not really.
Brotherhood came in the form of a sphere on the ground
and us talking making up for the dimension
The room was dusty
but not really

I used to sleep in the dreadful bare silence
I used to learn my words before I spoke them
I used to study your eyes like the map of your world
so i could melt into your world
like butter
You used to tell me it would be okay in the morning
and I would change my mind
You used to wait for me to kick and scream into the void until my fire put out and I sighed
A sigh of relief, i sighed because you were there
brushing my hair, and twirling my feet
until my life was complete