My world is not of the written word
It cannot be numbered
held captive on a so called page

My world is liquid
as sea , rain , snow or ice
It can be hot , cold , or entice

My world is cloudy
It thunders after it flashes light
My world is wrong , my world is right

There are no words that bind my life
I won't be delegated
to exist in the black on white

I will not be staved
by the limited sways
of the written words upon the page

Washed out flame
Never to reignite 
Face to face
Mouth to mouth
Breathe the terror out
I’m overwhelmed by infinite doubts

I forgot my virtue at the door
At least that's the excuse I'll misuse,
They say tattoos cover any bruise
But then again, so does continued drug abuse

Baby, be my "everything that went wrong”
Fatal love songs remind me of my recklessness
I’ve got another Hail-Mary to choke out- it’s the day of genesis
And you’re my only shame but I lack all eloquence

Digging my own grave
In hopes of learning the lesson
I’m five feet deep,
Torn lace is the only mark of my indiscretion 

Silhouettes fake perfection

© 2014 Peach

Aggression, is a session
Is a desire, blazing fire
Is a fest, at its best
Aggression, becomes a passion

Aggression, in your blood
In your vision, a mission
In your mind, a fight
Aggression, now your mood

Aggression, can be utilised
Can be channelized, it should be
Can be unleashed, it needs be
Aggression, must be utilised

Oh how she shimmers
made from the glare of the morning sun
she passes through my world in the briefest instant
My breath captured forever within her deep blue stare.
I can only watch as her dress skims her honeyed skin,
her scent, forever lingering amongst the breezes and leaves
will always stir my soul to sing.

What If, the sky were to bleed
What If, hatred transformed into seed
What If, its all about greed
What If, love is all you need

What If, friendship becomes foul
What If, body rejects soul
What If, anger becomes meal
What If, death makes you kneel

What If, night sky loose stars
What If, you can only feel scars
What If, everyone look forward to wars
What is it, if you were to live on mars


|AB|

A king without kingdom, is the one who dwells in his own world
Physically here, psychologically in another plane, he never cares about this land's cult
The only thing he cares, are his dreams and fantasies
Maybe that is why he is called a king, in its own means

A king without kingdom, can't be suppressed or oppressed
For he, doesn't have a land, that can be snatched to make him depressed
He is the true owner of his will, a hero
Who can't be made, to exist with Aryabhatta's zero

The king without kingdom, is not a gardener without flowers
He is that farmer, who always welcome the showers
The one who will join him, will also become a king
Like him, the one, A King Without Kingdom


|AB|

When I was little
I played with plastic toy knives
and dragged them across
my brother's throat
saying, "You're dead!
You're dead! You're dead!
I swear, you're dead!"

And we pretended
kool-aid was blood,
letting it drip down
my chin and neck,
down my chest,
past my pec.

I wrecked my bike
and ran for days.
I was stung by bees and swore,
"Nothing could hurt more
than this."

And when I turned twelve,
I learned how to ******* to dreams.
The grip on my skateboard
wouldn't let go of me.
I ollied over plastic bags
and stared at lottery tickets
sleeping in the garbage.

She and I played with fireworks
faster than shooting stars.
We waded in the lake,
being a cliche.
She and I rolled on the grass, naked.
I don't know where she is, now.

I don't know.

I jumped then changed my mind