I have walked this street too long
My legs hurt and my chest rattles
As I light another smoke
To fuel my endless march
Sneaky slow-motion suicide
(note the sibilance of the wheezing lungs)

I have to stop for a while
But though my body fades and fails
My manic mind remains restless
Merciless and remorseless
Pushing punching and prodding
And defiant unto the coffin
Get the lid down quick, boys

                                         By Phil Roberts

We use to call sweet torture
the way we'd tease each others bodies
until the early hours of the morning

but now for me, sweet torture is
how vividly I still remember
everything about you I'm longing to forget.

sometimes you learn.

when you grow old,
yes,
sometimes you learn.

or maybe
you remember
best.

anyway.

sometime,
you'll fall
in love
one last time.

hopelessly,
naturally,
but forever.

Do something magical
Everyone waits for magics
Your talent contains this
Take it to that level