I was confused at the way I have been handling things. Ironically I thought I would stick around to find out what love truly was. I never felt loved in my past life, and here it is, this man patiently waiting for me to love him back. How ironic was it that the man I’ve been praying for came around and found me.  Am I allowed to prance around this concept that I found someone who tries to find ways to make me happy. Isn’t that love after all, to find those able to mend your bones into one. The love that helps you become better and find yourself.  I still debate that the love you are raised by is the love you go by. My parents and I still battle around the fact that I never felt their love with them coming up, my mother thinks I should seek help, and that its all in my head. But how is it that I never felt their love elude within me. I have searched, sacrificed, and underestimated my life due to the fact that I never felt I was good enough for them. Which later in life exults all these insecurities that I still have yet to understand how to control. I follow I pretty thin protocol, transparent really, you get what you see, and what you see you get, yet the only people I find trouble being my unpoligcally self around, that would be my parents. It’s like walking on eggshells when I am around them. I will never underestimate the level of obedience and manners I have been taught growing up, that’s a magical skill that as I’m still learning is hard to obtain. I try not to let those who don’t know how to behave, don’t even abide by the concepts of loyalty, its sad that sometimes people come around you as a warning to watch the company that surrounds you. The saddest times are when you realize that the person you ride for doesn’t ride for you the same. Sure we will forever realize that no ones carry the same heart, as you, and the way you put your heart out, no one does it like you. But where are those who are like me?  Cause lately I have been feeling so insecure about the way people have been disrespecting me, why the **** do people need to hate on you?

Clouds of thought
Gripping tight the skin of my throat
Thick clouds of whisping anxiety and panic;
Upon which I choke!

Smoke of insanity
Of eyes shifting in a sandstorm around the room, always. Forever.

I choke.

I stumble. I choke.

The taste of blood from obsessive consistency becomes momentarily, forever.

The hatred I feel for my experience is forever, momentarily.

Clouds of panic grip my mind.
Clouds of anxiety gag my throat.
Clouds of obsession rob my time.
Clouds of sorrow **** me slowly.

Upon clouds, I choke.

You're right. It wasn't yours.
They're just words
written on an idle Tuesday
and I need you
to leave me
alone.
We can never speak.
My heart belongs
entirely
to someone else.

A lone god, as Shiva, standing upon a rock upon the sea upon the earth upon the tear of the Christ who wandered forever in the bloodstream of the savior of your own debt to darkness.

Standing as the waves crashed upon the wizardly and nostalgic jeans crafted from the dreams you had once when drama and a storm sat dormant in your heart.

Extending one hand towards the North Star, in a salute of desperation and longing to return via apotheosis to the realm of one's own dreamland home.  

Desperation, like the thirst of 10,000 beetles who drink blood like golden honey which drips from space like stars that melt and die in the winds whom are the kings of the middle americas.

Kings, like the standing stone.

Shiva, a tear, a stone...Is You or I.
The Stone, remember, is the dream you let die.

The ocean which swallows you all, is the death of nostalgia and hope.

Split the sea with the Trident of Shiva.

You are a God, if you choose.