How you'll try
To erase
All of the lines
In the book of lies
That you create

How you'll try
To rebuild
Every bridge
That you burn

How you'll try
To discern
One story
From the next

And with every page
Day by day
The more you'll regret

Book of lies
Thick or thin
In the end
You'll never win

Every bridge you build
Every story you discern
Will burn
Will blur
And every second
You have no guilt
No remorse
Is a second that leaves you
Burned and blurred
In your own way
By your own nonexistent moral standards

Book of lies
Oh book of lies
How you corrupt
How you disguise

Book of lies
Oh book of lies
How you stain
No word can be erased
No page rewritten

Oh
How you'll try
To erase
Every line
In the book of lies
That you create

I was reading a book
I was Indulging the smell of its old pages
my imagination was ignited
as I ate every mere word it has
my eyes were healed
my mind was quenched
I was not me when I was walking the journey
and it’s a story that I hoped would never end
its covers conceal fragility
and the book sheltered me from reality
I was focused
I was bound to the book

lots of things had happened
and I was unaware
it was already afternoon
the flowers poured the summer’s snow
fogs devoured the pearls of the ocean
trees have lost all of its leaves
the bookshelf fell and got broken
my coffee became cold
and many more had happened
everything happened
I did not know
I was too busy
I was reading a book
and that book was you

He looked at me
The way you look at
Stacked books
On a wooden shelf,
Carefully stroking my spine
After he's done it to
Three other stories
he'd gotten tired of.

Mr. Bookworm,
I am not a fictional option.
Yes, my cover is
Stained
And my last reader
Folded and tampered
With all my pages,
I only wish you'd
Treat this piece of literature
With respect.
You see, Mr. Bookworm,
I'm not a trilogy,
At least I'm not sure yet.
My Author isn't quite done with me. And I find it quite rude
That you stare at my papery insides,
Page after page,
Only to leave me
Back in the shelf,
Collecting dust.
Be patient with me, wandering reader.
Wait for my story
To reach it's ******.
Inhale my aging pages
Until you reach my resolution.
My apologies
For the times I've been
Rewritten.
But wait with me
Till you've reached my story's ending.
Because I swear upon my
Mismatched table of contents,
It will be a story worth telling.

I'm Jekyll
Alcohol is Hyde

Is that not the parable?
The moral of the story?

I am not compelled,
I don't need the drink.

But a few too many,
And its a self destructive streak.

Is that alcoholism?
Is that abuse?

The first step is knowing,
And its been quite some time.

So I stick with few or none,
Hoping to be just fine.

But do be wary,
For that few too many.

Because you'll lose it all if you do.

I don't care what you think
I never have
I never fit in
anyways
the more I try the more obvious it is I don't belong.

I'm a lone wolf in my own forest and I like it that way
I like being
there for me
and not having to worry about
stupid peoples insecurities
I like having
those 6 degrees
of separation between you and me.

I envy those who crave touch,
for I know not until I am

I envy those who can spread their wings
and become the social butterfly in the room

that's not me

because,
not trying to keep up with these sheep

I'd rather starve in my abandoned forest
than dress in their stupid fleece

Sink deeply
Into sleep and
Dream of
Bright places
Where you can rest
And write the pages
Of your life
You deserve

Reset your beating heart
To the beat of heavy rhythmic
Pleasure
And succumb to the voice
Of gracious mystic
Splendor

Let your eyes devour
The light of reflected dreams
And lungs gulp
What ink has already
Described

We'll find a way out
And dive deeply
Into the seas that surrounds
The souls of
True loves
Harmony