There is something about your smile
It can brighten the dullest of days
It brings sunshine to the cloudiest corner
lifts spirits in so many ways.
Your eyes light up and the gloom disappears
I find myself smiling along with you
There is just something special about your smile
It just brings positivity in everything we do.
It makes worries drown, pains disappear
It brings hope to this world we so desperately need.
Your smile brings a joy to the room,
it takes away sadness, hurt and greed.
There is just something special about your smile....

She jots down her feelings into that black journal with the red rose on the faded cover and the spine made out of red yarn to keep it held together. She writes about a boy, and how he has one green eye and one blue. I guess you could say he was a beautiful human being to her. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. She never experienced any touchy touchy feely feely crap, but he had the veiniest arms and it's as if he had the roots of a tree clinging to him. She wanted those hands, those send, around her body. She wanted to kiss his lips to see if he tasted like a hurricane or a tornado, or simply even a raindrop. When you're around her hands get all clammy, her palms are soaked, as if she's holding the ocean in her hands, this is what sweaty palms of nervous love is. She wrote about how his eye was as blue as the ocean she was drowning in after he had gone and how the other was as green as the leaves on the tree she fell from when she first met him. She wrote about how that was the same tree whose roots clung to his arms and when she fell she lost her roots. His lips that she oh so dearly wanted to kiss were as red as the rose whose thorns pricked her heart and made it bleed and hurt every single time it beat. And his blond hair looked to be as yellow as the sun that she could find even on the cloudiest days, where the clouds were thick and the rain pouring but she found shelter being held in his arms. She loved counting the freckles on his face that were as numerous as the night stars. She fell in love with every single detail about him, yet she never saw the way he looked at her. She could paint a perfect picture of him just by memory, making sure every perfect detail was included, but she didn't see herself as beautiful as the boy with the blue eye and the green eye did. She's scared of him though, no matter how beautiful he may be, no matter how much he reminds her of the sun, or the roots of trees clinging to him like cobwebs clinging to her un-kisses okays. She wonders, what if she keeps quiet, what if she won't destroy you, but she's really hoping she doesn't destroy you with her smile, she doesn't want you to look for a way out when you haven't even made your way in. She finds her dad in silverware, as it clatters and falls to the floor, especially knives, dressed in memories, they stab her in the back like he stabbed her mom, he's why she's so scared, her Father up and left without reasoning, she's scared to put her trust in you like she did him. But, she'll find you in scalding water, as she's washing years of giving up off her history book hands... You're that abandoned building with a Danger sign hammered to a white chipped paint door, she's taking a chance and she's going to judge you for what's inside, and hopefully no halloween masks are covering up your heart, making you someone you're not. She's scared of what she will find inside but also knows she can't turn back when she find out. No matter what wires are broken and how unstable the building is she'll take her chances knowing that she very well can die in there but that would be better than dying before exploring the heart of her lover. She takes her adventure to learn more about this mysterious boy to find what lies behind his eyes hoping to glimpse into his heart and soul so she can jot down her discoveries in that journal. So she can see the truth in why those eyes are two different colors and why he never gets too close to anyone that loves him. He's just as scared as going in that abandoned building to find what lies within as she is, but he's even more wary of what he does ready to fled at the first sight of danger, at the first fallen wire he's ready to run but she keeps going trying to dig deeper into the mystery while he just doesn't want to be hurt by the girl with the brown eyes.

This pain encompasses me;
it envelopes me; it surrounds me.
It follows me with each step
that my foot it does make;
it belabors me with each beat
of my heart it does take.
It shadows me even on
the cloudiest of days;
it reminds me with each memory
that my mind recreates.  

Your face exists
in my dreams now.
It haunts my thoughts,
each passing day.
Memories of our love
still linger in my heart.  
The feelings we once shared
are now only one-sided.  

I don’t know how to forget you,
even though I know I should.  
This mental anguish, alone,
causes me indescribable hurt.  
This hurt torments me,  
as flashbacks of our
times together continually taunt me –
constantly reminding me of how
truly happy we once were.  
I begin to lose control of my emotions –
sobbing, shaking uncontrollably.  

Each night before I slumber,
I pray to God that he grant
me some hours of peace,
as all parts of my being
are so exhausted, anymore.  
But, this pain finds me,
even while I try to rest.  
My once safe haven,
now discovered,
is only filled with nightmares.

I barely survive each day.  
I feel like an empty shell;
a lost soul walking around,
in circles, with no end in sight.  
Circles with no meaning, nor purpose,
in life, other than to
repeat the same cycle,
over and over again.  
How do I break free of this insanity?  

Even though my judgment is clouded,
the only thing I can be certain of,
is that I must find a way to survive this.
I must take the time to heal;
I must not give into the temptations
of loneliness, as misery
tends to love company.  
I need to realize that
true mending of my spirit
must be done on my own.  
This is when I truly learn
my own strengths, and weaknesses.  

I have been in this place before,
and I found my way out of the abyss.
Even though the path was dark,
at first, the longer I climbed ,
the closer to the surface I got.
At times, I slipped and fell downwards,
but, my desire to desperately
depart this darkness,
burnt so intensely within.
This fire, of true conviction,
was the only light that
helped me reach the surface.  

This pain will ease one day.  
I know I must believe,
as hard as it may be to do so.  
This pain will have no control
over me, unless I give it thee.  
One day, the source of the pain
will be forgiven by me;
however, this pain will never
be truly forgotten, indeed.
But, instead, it will become
another lesson learned
along this journey called life.  


Vicki A. Zinn

March 8, 2013

You’re not allowed to step into the house.
You’re not allowed to open your mouth too widely,
your ugly teeth bared and gnashing. You aren’t allowed to be that close,
so close your mouth and sip your tea through the window,
where expensive and matching dining chairs circle around a table
set for nothing, for no one,
because you can’t touch that silverware. You can’t wash those plates.
You can’t fit, your neck so long that your head is in the clouds,
your not-quite-bony legs serving as a reminder that your feet are still on the ground.
Can you feel your heart in your throat?
The way that it pulses every time you rest your chin on the roof or
the way it pounds when you’re at the doorway, much too close to this house
that you bought and built and you aren’t allowed inside. Why won’t they let you inside?
Why won’t you let yourself inside?
Invite yourself in; maybe your head will come down from the clouds and
your heart won’t beat quite so obnoxiously loud and you can
smile in a mirror while flashing all your ugly teeth.
You can’t build a house without thinking about how you’ll fit into it:
that’s basic architecture, basic design, basic
everything that you never bothered to learn,
bent on keeping your head so much higher than the ceiling.
Asymmetric, sloping,
like your shoulders and the alignment of your eyes
and your crooked smiles and ******* tongue,
like white lies and broken foundations
and a doorknob that doesn’t work,
doesn’t turn,
won’t let me in
despite the fact that I built this place with my bare hands.
It doesn’t recognize me anymore, a fantasy
so tangled up with reality
that all the nightmares and anxiety ruin even my cloudiest positivity.
I built myself a world and a future
in which I myself am not allowed to enter.
Maybe I should brush up on my knowledge of basic architecture,
because God, I’m horrible at interior design
and mapping things out ahead of time.
I’ve tried just living without but the winter gets chilly and weakens my bones
and it really sets in without the warmth of a home.

There’s a hole in my heart
when you’re not around.
One left from a missing
piece so profound.
I think about you
when my skies are grey.
You brighten my world
on the cloudiest days.
My wish was granted
and you became mine
as my feelings developed
over much needed time.
Like a snowman outside
on a bright winter's day,
my insides melt
when you are away.
Here is my heart,
treat it not like a toy
because I am your
forever boy.

When I was a little girl,
I've always wondered what love would be like for me.
If it would be like fireworks
That suddenly bursts into vibrant colors
But disappears the next second;
If it would be like a sunflower
Just contentedly gazing at the sun from afar;
Or if it would be like a fire
That keeps on burning as long as the wood keeps it alive.
But the more I grew up
And the more I saw the world,
The sooner I realized
That love wasn't something easily defined
By metaphors and poetry
Love was a ray of sunlight
Covered by clouds of mystery.
Love was the shadow
You never realized was following you
And sometimes when you turn,
The light has already shifted and the shadow is gone
And has moved to another direction.
Love was not merely fireworks, or sunflowers, or burning fires.
Love was a mixture of everything.
Love is your favorite pillow stained with the bitterest tears.
Love is the beam of sunlight on the cloudiest morning.
Love is the drizzle of rain on a hot summer day.
Love is one thing while at the same time being another.
But if there was one thing I knew,
It was that love can sometimes mess you up,
Love can sometimes break you
Love can sometimes make you cry
But love can also heal
Love can also build
And love is what makes the tears all worth it.

my mother is both my stagehand
and my audience.
when the stage lights burn out,
she will be there to drive the darkness
back into the corners.
when the flimsy backdrop crumbles,
she will build a new world for me
while cleaning up the ruins of the old.
she will wipe the exaggeration from my face,
and still applaud when I am myself.

my mother is both the moon and the sun.
her voice brightens the cloudiest days
and her laughter is a warm embrace.
out of all of the stars in the galaxy,
she is the one that keeps me alive.
when the day comes to an end,
and all I can see is night,
she will pull back the waves
when I feel like I am drowning.

my mother is everything.
she is the water that nourishes these roots.
she is the reason love grows
from this family tree.

you are the tiniest of scattered things
remembered in the cloudiest of dreams
so vivid when i sleep, sink deep, or
fly high into my head,
you are the characters in the books i have read,
the heroes, both living, and dead,
you are among the greatest of my ambitions,
you are a man, and to become one like you were is my mission,
but you are missing,
you were father, healer of hurts, great counselor,
confidante,
you were there when i was in the room,
but i was not,
when i broke into two,
a shell of me, and i,
wishfully, blissfully,
irridescent moon,
you are, silver-hair, scattered through the many rooms,
the sudden, unexpected trill of an old familiar tune,
you are sometimes the songs you sang,
sometimes the silences
sometimes the gentle rain
sometimes my tears, or violences,
the woods we walked, the talks we talked
the cluttered house,
faded graphite, scribbled in the corners of notebooks, on walls,
in phonebooks, and on all
of my cards,
you are often here
when i am gone
and i am often gone
when you are near
it is the reuniting that i long for,
it is the forgetting that i fear.
you are all around me, but fading,
you are a pencil drawing,
losing its shading.
a perfect snapshot, on aging paper
once and only once a perfect snapshot, later
smeared, torn, lost, or forgotten,
burned, replaced with another, eaten by moths,
found wet, molded, yellowed, or rotten.
Returned to earth, or dust, or ash,
and though i long  to hold you in a perfect memory..
time...
must pass.
i miss you.

You say that your body
Is like a cracked ***.
I know that on bad days,
These are the gaps
Where the darkness leaks in.
But come with me darling,
We can fill you up with soil once more.
Plant deep and unshakable roots
That bloom bright yellow daffodils
Who can withstand even the cloudiest days,
Reminding you to keep growing
(Keep going darling)
Up towards the sunlight.

Septuagint prince scriding on scrivello detail
Emerges from the frogmarch grave of revenants sheepish about ghoulish masquerade
The tribes whittle puckered shibboleths and charismatic vengeance evades
The henpeck of roosters harmonizing sand into grassy knolls of carapace cathedral light
Walks beyond the whimsical despair the conniving conservatories of manufactured fright
Spurned by smokestack confusion above a plastered reconnaissance of abundant life flocking between small awakenings curtailed by fulgurant swelters of blistering white
The spectral dance assumes primordial shades to dampen the windowed elegance of betrayal complicit in the haze
Mojo’s rise and fall with moonshot decades flashing intimacy lived twice barking like a squelched gyrovague relishing the kantikoys of burlesque night
And yet among the bemused stars unbuttoned by the prolixity of the Russia ruse the smear indelible flaunts with decadence in the pleonasm of sluggish articles of flight
How long must the messianic age shelter the nebbich halls of crambazzled piety in science to an upbringing of oligochrome
How many dastardly wernaggles of the rusticated elitism flomp with desultory banquets reminiscent of boiling Rome
Incinerated in an ageless day revived only after a historic lapse of barbarity in the ferule exacted such immeasurable despair
That the prejudice of pride is forever shelved as redundant because the filigrees of geometry only permit curvature in flatness
Convex movements captured in still-framed pillories refract nothing but Blazing Saddles of a caricature full-bloom sun
Yet we marvel at storybook ghosts and the isangelous carapace of marauding instincts forever brave and encaged
Erratic by delivery but sciamachy knows no identifiable age
Scrawny fossarians dig entrenched charnels voraginous with skeletons of brackish regelation enthused by immemorial decay
Must we abridge a hearty ocean in a month’s sublime regaled design of trespasses of unsung heyday spaying its weakest defrocked knight
Armed to the Teeth we seek the terminus of apocalyptic capsules destined for gluttons braving annihilation in the vacuum of orbital planes plain only to the ken of the keenest sight
No we make no petitions in prayer for this Soft Parade of vigor verging on flair
We ransack littoral virtues in nexility bronzed with Stayin’ Alive shoes in remission of staircase blight
Beamish in beatitudes of milquetoast pregnancies of salted Matzah brimming in the yeasts of cesspool emergent from scarecrow metaphors flagrant hauteur gliding on air
Witness the spearhead of revolution in the metagnomy of oracular aubades to future brimstone caverns
Lurking like counterstrokes in revision blackguarded by the feisty prowl of outpaced labtebricole whipsaws of timber readied into foisted brown-brick comestion of elegant emerald errors
Dancing with galactic improvidence concealed by the rigor of lurched liars enthroned with prerogatives of stain-glass adumbration
We parcel up parsecs because clairvoyance among titans is a swank in need of 20/08 visions spectral in the clouds of all prominent registries of memory
Lost to faint delicacies of swift serpents outlasting gnats in the tabernacles of ribald ecbolic promontories on the verge of futile tomorrow pastimes spinsters flummox with slimmerback rigmarole flanged by whinks and escorted by the maskirovka of positive bears in absolute value alone
Yet Enola Gay found its destruction profitable to hominist lore enough to attenuate its evaporation of suffrage in the glint of pervasive remedies to stranded gore
Embanked on the sidelines of conquistador flaunts that a Titanic missive of classy regard found the damsel at the steerage slipping on zalkengur irony the anticlimax of lore
Traipsing fellowship of many a ring is a phony artifice for an ostentation that bellows so loudly when isolated perjury must not whimper but sing
The loudest plaudits afforded to a parallax incumbent white horse in the shadow of Dark Horse occultism a barbed flying wing of the West becoming the king of behest
Scurrilous are many jeers because their similes are baseline just as much as the storged conglomerate behind ensnared rapture looming with less ecstasy and blunt fear remains the kilmarge of simple foresight wrinkled behind the sum of many tears
We await our Creator’s Throne insuperable even with the blandishment of piecemeal craters that are superlative bolides of the weirdest attenuated into the spectrum of eldritch weird
Yet the riches of hobohemia found in “invisible lockets” worn by the travesty of jerseys measuring up to Roadhouse beer
The cartels of citadel cascades built on mountebank fortunes reaped from venal psephology collectively embody the unconscious gamut of javelin cloaks of sardonic sneer
Threnodies written long ago in the Hidden Tracks of sophistry welcome the intermissions of antiquity abridging the donnybrooks of charlatans bossed around by facetious gibes of manicured belletrist humid enough that evaporation itself of rarefied tabacosis has few if any peers
Yet the peerless sketch thrombosis in the oxygeusia of deceptive schadenfreude only to topple jengadangles that glabrous gravity muscles to barely if it all steer
In a vacant reality eager for surrealist bounty the sidereal question of moribund placards supplanted by vibrant living semaphores fixates upon figments of acatalepsy rather than ruddy enumerations of partition despite beloved chalky rudiments filibustering with courtesy rather than jeer
Amicable are ravenous betrayals for chieftains cloffined by warm sapwood integral to equated tantamount mountains festooning firmaments in quaffed delights rigid and keen
The most welcomed blasphemy fragrant with jejune originality celluloid enamors splenetic with sprees of perishable profanity lurking ever more obscene
Regaled in the modest jostle is the forsifamiliation of heterodyne dins of honest applause from the blackguarded periphery among which there are no visible beacons no visible stars
Scarred by diacope enumerated in prescient revelry the trollops of tune and attunement magnetize a riveting weld of seamless geometry that is permeable to ineffable lychgates both porous with prowess and ajar against a golfer’s remediable par
Wizened ghosts flirt with tucked bushes in the forlorn deserts jolted by oasis and flagrant with confection torn asunder by wide-eyed gallantry skipping stones on ataraxia from a distraught afar
That lake of goldmines is scattershot with limey limelight squandered on profligate wrikponds of propinquity but not prolixity in scores and bounties of exoticism in glaikery’s fugitive charm
In proximity there is usucaption but the usufruct of sustainable obelisks to liberty must have the forbearance to bear many witnessed eyes to the Right to Bear Arms
Skirmishes of benighted fracking obsolescence ragged with vitriol and poison-ivy nostalgia flaunt the bromides of algedonic flash over consequences that many disregard
Spiraling with vertiginous pain the scowl of obligation is both seamstress of emblazoned effronteries and the proper reflection of seasoned but not seasonable garb
This barbed quandary riddled with rapacious tendency mixed with myopic bonhomie devours a rickety cacophony of diminutive scopes of ******’s glare to prove each atomic indivisible atrocity a carbonated fulmination heavily barbed
This is all why the killjoys monopolize their gangster vices behind tinted windows and chockablock morality are uxorious bridewells for the bridgewater of garbology sketched by vanity in the outrecuidance of gallionic chasms of an absolute value of firebrand regard
No difference does it make if the recoil is whimpered by hordes of sheep in pretenses of authenticity or whether decapitated delopes emerge from visagist dacoitage snuffed like flavors orbiting self-injury by clockwork towers apace to outlast tertiary bribes for secondary bards
The atocia of freckles in recognition of frail pinnacles summited by daily alpine dilettantist dualisms of polarity are a gullywasher to cleanse and launder indelible regrets carved by aboriginal pottery to memorialize primordial penury
As the slick oleaginous tilts of wicked smart Northeasters swarm the hindsight of Southern Weather afflicted by tempests beleaguered first on recapitulations of Calvary and then deposited evidence upon bourgeoisie
Fumes of the modest flambeaus torching sunken apostasies of hungry spasms of the wind meeting the brusque celerity of the ribald waves rarely etch sublime hint in etch-a-sketch lapses of untimely mobility
Instead that perspicacity of conservatory silence bludgeons Lisbon in the fright before the fall of so many a Phoenix in a foreign land can bear the assaults of the heaved seas
Lambent upon a craggy regularity extinguished by sentinels of the tattered womb for a grimace of prestige by primipara seduction we find no justice of known and knowable terminal disease
Figurative in spoken wisps that predate evaporated concepts of precipitous time the triumph of exalted adoration belongs to hubris but vacant of the prideful decline of crime
To each outspoken verve witnessed on sublunary turf the absolution is nearer to fertility than the craggy soil is to dirt as blemished prowess is a furlough to the sensitive pink tucked manifold beneath each authentic skirt
Liberated by ophelimity but flexed by vicarious pomp in serenade only of hauteur for the hottest we slice and dice a cavern of temptations regardless of enumerated patterns of clearly lopsided dice
We think we live and die but You Only Live Twice in ******* to the oriental bolides of meteoric meteorology preeminent in governing plantations of rice
In jubilant proclamation, I graft from venereal skin a renewed girth of purpose that all enchanted fantasia is a birthright of pleasure more than a vapid drawl of purpose
Glitter bores the scintillation of a denuded naked glory of gore because intimacy is antecedent and consequent to immovable revolutionary procreation of service
To conclude this homily the apothecary in persiflage renounces the role of kilns in both poverty and pottery because his shaken dreams are yelps of a disgusted ornery camaraderie
Listless by oracular dreams of titanic parvenus immune to the sway of tentative croons of Suburban Muse because the grisly subversion of vetust honor that honors not verdict but version of ghastly spools of flimsy epitaphs and not the paragon surgeon is the downfall of a diatribe of petty men
Littering their taradiddles on owleries in overclocked jaundice drowning for purpose among hatcheries of the privvy roosters that own the consequence of audacious pens
Dodgy in interrogation, flummoxed with deracination, isolated by time for time’s recapitulation of surrender in katzenjammer vibes it is time for gossamer servant surfers to borrow nine and hang ten
But the noose of the wednongue nun specializes in puritanical Model Ts for DeLoreans trendsetting years ago because listless lethargy benights the glory that cineastes already won
Teeming on the brink of tomorrow is the progeny of hopeless yesteryear engraved on the iconoclasm of the weak after the next debacle because the Earth after Christ has already borne a Ton
Liturgies revised to reflect corsair trigonometry aimed forever at zephyrs of plight bathe in July 3rd infamy doctored by Generators and Generations before and beyond Walter White menacing the saber with imperious might
Flowered in the nuisance of death is the womb of the arena participant to infinite relapses of contention gladiatorial only when the shunamitism of shanachies sheds serpentine grit for the blench of ligonies of redoubled sight
Towering from the knave inferno of a tramontane elusive cordial imitation of captive citizens of attentive sites the illusion is the vanguard of centuries guarded gingerly by Canada Dry sprites
Rollicking in vehement magpiety attuned to machismo if marginally the sultry philander of naked ruse medicates the charmed Apache Indian on his brief encounters with limousine cruise
Stark in sunken destination glimpsing coal-fire recursive ironies the cloned subversion is a golden calf so effete because it never moos about instinctual muse relegated by twin terrors riddled with sparkplug truce
Limited by scopes enlarged by scales mired in funereal pyres to rigmarole sensationalism worthy of nativist coercion and pivoted lyres the riddle of terminus remains an acquiescent scoff, cough and quaff that never expires
It reaches planetary dread of vast distances regaled against gambits of the spread so the richest sourdough appeases the riper vipers of the nested bed
Recalcitrant with frugal uxorious creed the leader of esquivalience is the headless horseman of innumerable tractions but no mouth to feed
He digests the gallop of the gallant interregnum specious in caitiff ploys and the recessive allele of commiserations against the piety of apolaustic joy because rambunctious speed always attracts a resignation professed from the tailspin of a crass voyage of ludic greed
Tricksters boast of passionate lubrications of finessed bread recocted from useless toasts glowering with insipid pallor as heat and humidity reckon billows of hype congregated more in cisterns of apostasy for remark than a marksman headshot of a Head Hunter wed tightly to a pregnable visions of proactive Ghost
Recidivism and time have a vendetta against verdant drolleries coated by waxen plenilune accordions rampant with polyacoustic rhymes
The tridents of mercurial weather bent on the ineffable vacillations of whether are the brazen opponent of Sterling fatherhood of life’s only father the clockwork animation of a living patronage of eternal existence cobbled from immutable time
To the glory of the Father the sun shades its whimpers and the moon alights as the frontispiece of nocturnal revisions to the New York Times but the hues of rocketed ingenuity coax the ingratiated few to the laureates of genius reckoned with both designation and superlative artifacts of pristine design
Haunted by Green-Light Politics for Greener-Eyed Ladies masquerading in star-crossed tomes of existential dread of lollygagged playful mischief tucked in the coach as he leads his team with sophrosyne feel-good invictive treacle we witness the fumiducts of fortune blitzing Hail Mary contrition with earnest specialty in defense of offensive precision
Games won by the squirrel are outnumbered by the stars in the heavens flagrantly devoid of specialized electricity enough to encapsulate the ommateum of collectivized insights found only in the most evolved sequence of cell division
Incarcerated by the scrappy schlep of bad beats and bronzed chariots roiled by the momentum of angular spears we seek oracular transcendence that cements decades into the span of days that portend the deliverance of future years from past and present fears
Presiding as proctor in the redacted exoneration of crash-course pilots glowering with the effluvium of recensed perdition the heyday of one becomes the mayday of anarchy tested only by the alacrity of the summation of its beloved yet maligned cheers
Against a prosperity hard-won by earnest husbandry commandeered by gammerstang notoriety spawning the recrimination of star power into centupled peers negligent of zero-sum opinionation wagered by Country Club fraternities embedded in the taxonomy of wilted hackumber for hegiras minimized by outcry but cemented by Dear Johns’ twinged with sultry pleonexia in taxed tears
So with the whipsaw of the individual between the collective funnel and the idiosyncratic insubordination that amplifies outcry galvanized throes of insemination built on cross-pollination is melliferous to a pretense of alchemy outstretched to sidereal wonder
Hardest to guess is intimacy clothed in Platonic virtues crumbling because puritanical pilgrimage is appraised as a joyous thunder for a abnegation from all potential blunders
To wager such a life is a depredation of the abundance that John breathes as a ceremonial birthright cast aside by latent regrets stampeding the realm of nosocomial reflections of the pallor of a lurid squander
So we are left to bemuse the decrepit bodewash of realism taken to such a virulent extreme it leaves few artifacts of nostalgia to croon about and ponder and fewer abstractions to yield to manicures of elegant troponder
Diminutive sinews in the intertesselations of heft profess a fidelity of notoriety carving life before and after death
Unsung by the beadledom of the usucaption of exotic tailored musician brutes upon my landlocked assault of chryselephantine usufruct I lampoon nescience as it lurks in murky graveyards of anoegenetic zombies covered in thick pigments of piggish soot
Yet this fuliginous bronteum of warped clarity transfixed by the ulterior wednongues of atrocious spans of provenance jilting providence makes betting interests of rivalry outcomes harder to win earnest roots
The trees of the gamboled skittish resignation of checkered blinks obscuring the curtailed discernment of bedizened slogans of future campaigns yet distasteful in ornery churning the bootstrapped tie their tethered laces to their acquired boots
Barnstorming through afflicted spandrels of abeyance shepherded by notions of public dereliction by imperium of centrobaric centripetal philters of concubine rhymes I surge beneath cordial flonky redhibition because of redshorts in estimable traction cemented by supernal design
Weak in luster my potent pollination for synergistic aplomb evades the fringe of corrugated affections mounted upon quixotic escapades of jockeyed statistics flourishing by reticence rather than frazzling the prolix emulation filibustering the mundane ignorance but garnering the harvest of the plevisable sequence from prime to prime indivisible by liberty alone or complicit with cadence sublime
Finishing the sermons of modern apostasy to a gallant cause my laments outnumber the muzzles belonging to the quorum of begrudged applause in the rawest spectacle of unheralded genius clawing insistently at the heart of electric gravity
The nuances of plausible nuisance bicker in emerald harlots of the tantamount nature of derelict frikmag to calculated prosodemic solidarity around insanity because the vein of the golden ore should see ivoride as nullification and inanity
We all stoop on counterfeit stencils of pretense hearkening a clairvoyant sun to droop for closer inspection but detective remonstrance is outmoded by dreary witless defections
Thus the drawl scrawled by the genius flonky in gadzookerie but gilded in rhapsodies of ineffable cadence fighting orthodoxy to a relegated draw sketches the outline of the special talents of lying claws
Because stipulated in the vast oversight that predicates reprisals of retches glazing in obtuse effronteries with eccedentesiast odontoloxia we witness the corrosion of race and gender into pontificating audits of nomadic treason in a fortress militarized by niche applause
Trickling from repcrevel faucets implicit degradation is a casual casualty of an abbreviated motive gestured in ponderous stupidity to distract abiding legislation into the giggled gaggle of tinsellated glitter
Fatuous by vacuums of gaudy prizes worthy only of token motions rather than locomotive strains of virulent and compassionate respect lapsed on vigors of vehement regret is a sing-song ridicule of a still-framed pillory erected as the obstacle that gouges the riddles of impediment and deprives the luxury of preferential emolument siphoned off to lurid jeers of mockery propaganda sizzling in the cauldrons of tilted marginalization
So we witness the faded declension of the hubris of fair-weather camaraderie as a flux dispersal of invidious buoyant bloviated streaks of temporal grit into inverted revelry never shared by the proper ubiquity of streams of personal recompense for plodding fragments of invasion
If I veer away from bickering cackles of denounced preeminence swiveled to face the shadows upon the great cavern of insuperable bounds of fickle human ignorance I deplore the vaunted toadies that shrink my shadow and diminish my viable conceptual and vibrant footprints
Few extinct creatures know the annihilation of petty fame quaffed on Whiskey Bars I never met because the insipid banal pleonasms of restructured irony grimace at my complexion as the scent of the game alerts the foibles of a champion begotten once before as a shark-tank prince
Livid is my grief in the aborning moral quandary of sunken priority overlapping with piebald skeumorphs of retches of blinkered allegiance faltering prior to the primary day of my true awakening because the completion of nesiote subterfuge  rusts on creaky hinges of noncommittal regressions of pointed but pointless deluge
I spar with the augury of irrelevance with a five-pointed star bequeathing rigid but plentiful provision to assist with more than a petty dime of tithe to a 20/20 flash of perfect prescience and hallowed vision
The eve of all destruction is the lollygag of subordinate squawks redacting convenient priorities on the slowpoke walks through teenage immaturity found in the infamous “talk” that the world is governed by evasion in supremacy rather than by the bywords of the perennial stocks in sublime stalks
This nation perishes with my visionary clarity because the bifocal constraints of delimited defenestration remands my custody beneath ****** upheaval documented by useless historians of deliberation in gaffe and ammunition for agitprop flickering away the aubades of praise for the stilted pretense of sclerotic values inflexible to authorship thus scuttled by crowdsourced dictatorship
How sad a spate that the welters of sciamachy hide behind the glaring shadow of immeasurable genius for an unwarranted earwig to steal the echoes of my thunder and poison the servitude of the minions to companionship to highlight aggrieved infamy over walloping feats of refrain found in an isolated rather than protracted celebrity
The guilt of the reproachable beams through the frikmag of tyrannical bouts of circular wernaggle as I carve spherical reckoning that outstretches in all viable directions so that “The Mailman” and the Male Man both succeed in historic insurrection
Flashy benumbed brutish ferules of ferocious dainty dances with an arbitrary cage highlighted among a voiceless heyday for an auditorium which perceives insanity more dangerous than inanity is a profane stipulation by wrinkled mediagenic hubris which scours planetary limitations for excuse to recourse and recourse to excuse
We find marvels in subtlety finicky on the apothegms of heterochrony divergent even further from syndication as the regimented nuances of abuse become plucky daredevils that cozen robust vital sapwood from anglers seizing by seizure the roundabout logic of the innumerable minority characterized forever obtuse
I writhe in delicate contortions of flexed directional bypass surmounting orthodromic velocities capering with the anenometers that spar against spangled enthusiasm only to become an anointed slave of the flagging moral resolve fulminating a huffed crusade with silentiums of false asylum for true achievement brusque against any resourceful tempest scurrying the hidebound illusion of pandemonium for scrappy shenanigans of vergers and emptied pews griping with the dearth of the day-to-day despite the known tomorrow
We cannot affix primary focus upon constellated wasms of puckered abstention borrowed from a maskirovka of secret hedonism wed to many vices among wives but deprived of sacrosanct remuneration for abiding expenses yet an atoll upon a continent decisive in its aborning revolution
Ribald wiseacres of a jovial dismay flanged on rectiserial exaggerations of sebastomania is a stranded frigate of a fugitive escapism wandering with nomadic insistence against cosseted blackguard of assertion without plenipotentiary verdicts against the suborned crater of overstated flimsy truculence in sardonic dissolution
In trespass of a reservation of recoiled tender of tutelage proctoring unseemly haggardly refuse to creak into noisome and noisy cacophony armed by centurions of merciless scorn that lackadaisical winter belies the meteoric riches of autumn mainour fungible with the retches of remorseful decay dangling retreat above entreaty for exasperated wednongues lacking curiosity or the backbite of counterfeit engastrimyths seeding an unknowing complicity to fallacy forked over by chiefs and chefs to an amounted dubiety reserves the armaments of glib sedition for inopportune blacklists by a whitewashed Listerine amenable to launder travestime into oversight rather than belabor banal graft upon the agelasts of a toilsome operose labor to trivialize Herculean monuments to creativity as backwater residence of restive plucky percurrent revivals of infamy as a primary thorn rather than a secondary abreaction
Sentinels swift to the expedited squalor intrepid in sclerotic simpers of renowned defalcation bludgeoned by the tridents of harmonized trauma healing the brayed complaint while regaining the quixotic statute of plevisable mobility belongs to the froward counterpunch to the flippant underminnow of savagery yet among noble personage a blip on furloughs rather than a singed diacope perishing in Wasting Light for denuded darkness to supplant the vacated stage of ironic upbringing bartered from a treasury of obsolete wasms of trivial shadows in the amounted lineage of time.
Elected by the purblind fudged cadge of intransigent solidarity behind unhinged proclamations of lewd lunacy the reset of wibble-wabble and conflagrations of trenchant visibility will cloud the cloudiest tempest with hurricane-force devastation by the healing stripes of the piebald idiosyncrasy of gerrymandered defamation failing where insular regeneration outlasts hamartia and blinkered foibles of girouettism to pillory the excess but not transmogrify the whittled progress of seminal generativity unbounded by harped lyres of discord for secret concords of select femicide
With outstretched hands I point to the tapestry of the Heavens as eternal folksy witness that to endear the temperance of time bullishly roaring on the laureates of prolific servitude to the malleable substance of capered argument the enigmatic punctuation outweighs the baragnosis of miscreant opportune glares at personal prospect for aggrieved sockdolagers of redstrall over the filigrees of innate geometry to cackle above the shouted gnash and the dissoluble squirms of blackened cremation of living memories into insipid fracking of sapwood caitiffs flowing on the motion of discredit rather than honor in valuable endeavor for future genuflection
Totems value me as much as they stalk grazed hinderbaggle of cosmetic devolution of ragged popcorn theatrics in the desuetude of normative ethics beneath the carcass of rotten dastardly cowardice brandishing an ulterior discretion beneath the level of the lowest stoop of any breed founded on loyalty verging into flagrant snipers of integrity for the integral unshakable paragon of broad illumination the guidepost for many spectral truths overshadowed by one miserly fool flummoxing with albatross without the overhang  of pluvious integrity shepherding his hauteur in zig-zagged wallops rather than buoyant serenades
Thus entrenched in juicy poignant barricades against virulent spawn of the katzenjammers of squawking femicide I spout the blossom, bequeath the gift, renounce the delusion and form a formidable bastion against depredated valleys blemished from sight by intolerable patches of darkened verdure hiding from commonwealth perception the pearl of ecumenical salvation swimming in the naked tongues of honest profession dancing with conventional demarcated demerits of Rimbaud ramshackle deracination as a humdrum belittled squander of a prop of craven filibuster rather than beavers outsmarting the delignated destruction of habitat because of outright distaste for plucky individuation above the squalor of relativism in minor octaves of gnashed betrayal rigged by hamsters rather than owned by the men trigger-happy with rat race motivation only to the servitude of degrees rather than plausible recovery embedded into the fabric of fickle society
Hidebound tomes fishing for destruction but grappling with the enormity of the plagued pitfall of ceramic skirmish with brittle conscience emerge with epincion rather than sulk in brooded hyperbole of convenient drapes of flocks postulating irrelevance clearly in the light of the truest day frolicking with gigantic swaddles of curated support etching masterpieces of traipse into the frescades of future calenture beyond the petty misestimation of hemitery politics
Thus the weapon serves two masters of row rather than regatta and the besieged rankles the testy predicament to a teased poetry riveted by years of rhapsody rather than moments of tomfoolery emergent victorious rather than dilapidated by what-could-have-been chary brinkmanship on the precipice of modern sacrilege
To instruct the herds of men to hoard and the wisdom of the wise to circulate that apothegm of reclamation owns superlative traction fundamental to whimsical festivity even forsaken on a churlish masquerade outmantled by frenetic activity famigerated by the true Richter Scale of public fanfaronade because justice is truth and only in germane truth beyond germ scares will decrepit scarecrows demolish their Fear Factor even when the gullible squirm for nexility on bounded continents rather than novantique frontiers
Conscription demarches for assembly beyond relegation and celebrity above frays of discordant rumination feasting advenient rather than cherishing internal and integral the virtuoso wrabble of residue generations churning wheels of acceleration rather than quibbling extinguished vitality as principal complaint exercised in negligent abodes of facetious barnacles to outlandish freckles in the majestic pulchritude of a Titanic salvation beyond and considering the curglaff of sunken resources pitted to my registry by slot-machine audiences incognizant of brittle whittled henpecks of adoring truth and perdurable verve
We sink and die by destructive tongues but abide and live by righteous exemplary prowess capable of scraping the towering canvass of the firmament and the retches of the deepest sea inhabited by any curiosity worthy of emolument
So in token liturgy I decry sidelong cursory squandered affronts that drive the Jehus madcap with fractious celerities of formal destitution rampant on flonky menace rather than modern hypertrophy
In The End, we see triumph in every nuance and bristling concord with every perspiration of ennobled effort truckling into serrated selachostomous and fractious bromides of wrecking-ball fashionistas fumigating cultural pederasty with subtle bailiwick but ragged travesties of taxidermy celluloid
Marvel in-between the serenade and grandstand and cull the turnverein of triumph from banished evasive rundles of the outlasted calculus to neuter the estranged and to estrange the atocia of vibrant surreal vibes no stranger to an alien hand in a desolate world.

why is it that
i can only find inspiration on the cloudiest days?
what about the days where i'm too busy to think?
what about days where i don't get a moment alone?
what about days where i'm immersed in my art?
what about days where i have it all figured out?
what about days where there's so much light i can't even comprehend darkness?
i neglect my brightest days,
only to be inspired by sorrow and stagnation.

I found a home
In the heart of what you said to me:
That you didn't trust yourself.

But I trust you like I'd trust
the kindling to fuel our friendly fire.
Never quite ablaze but always holds a smolder.

I'd trust you to
feel me, and know me, and hurt me
and still be the person I want to talk to
on my cloudiest of days.

Because I'd rather feel pain than
feel numb
and I'd rather try my best
than be done.

Because the beauty in your eyes
isn't a color,
It's knowing that there
is a depth behind for me to find.

Your complexity
Strikes a curiosity in me
that wants to break you down
to build you up.
Because a mountain of you
would always be worth the climb
No matter
how rough the weather.

And I know that these are things I've
said before,
My entire existence
banes from redundancy.

But you are new
and you understand
the bluest of my hues
because you have them too.

Part of me wants
to shine in the darkest corners
of your heart.
But the other part
knows you are not looking
for a flashlight in me.

I've been here before.
It's starting to look
familiar again.
The thing about living life
next to a window
is that you always have a view of
what's on the other side.

But a view of you
makes me grateful
that I have the best seat.

Thank you to you
For doing what you could for me.
Thank you for teaching me that love isn’t something fake, that it’s attainable.
That it’s something that can naturally happen and come from nothingness
That one can love and be loved but that there is always a consequence around the corner
Thank you for showing me that I’m capable of being an object of affection not an object of objectification.
I have the ability of being touched and it meaning something with every smooth move and gentle kiss I can be someone’s something and that it’s not an impossibility.
Thank you, for you.
For showing me that all the colors of the rainbow can be seen even on the cloudiest of days in a person.
Not in the gray painted skies after a storm within cascading cumulonimbus clouds
Thank you for leaving me.
Thank you for showing me that I am strong and can come from hell and back
That I can pick myself up off the ground even when my rainbow turns upside down and grayscale against the bright blue sky
Thank you for giving me the chance to rise up from underneath the crust of the earth to blossom into the flower of a person I always knew I could be. Petals perfectly placed facing the sun soaking up her essence and basking in her warmth
Thank you to you.
For showing me that love ******* hurts and that sometimes you have to hit the lowest low in a bottle or **** to feel something and come back from that to be the person you always hoped you could be.
To be the person who can come from nothing.
Thank you for making me an addict.
You were my drug of choice, then I found others to fill that hole in which I wish you were.
Other oddities in things that which you inhale and exhale and find yourself falling in too deep shot after shot and solo cup after solo cup, but even after the night is over I stumble back finding myself... solo.
Thank you for leaving.
And letting me discover all of the things that can happen when the one thing you care about dissipates in midair.
My time with you taught me that I need no one.
That I can pull myself up.
That I am my own shining glittering rainbow on the cloudiest of days and that I don’t need YOU.
That I can blossom from the crust up and find my own happiness and salvation in the things I care about.
And be okay being solo.
Thank you to you.
For doing all these things for me you unknowingly did.

And forgive me for staring but I've never seen/eyes like yours, take my breath, and I guess what I mean is/I'd follow you down into hell and back home if you'd let me.
If you'd let me I'd give you the rain, and that moment at night when the sun has just set, and the stars/and I'd give you my heart and the air in my lungs and I'd walk out to meet you/it's never too far if I hear your voice at the end.
If you'd let me.
If you'd let me I'd draw you a city and when it was done it would rise off the page, and surround you/and I'd bring you flowers at 4 in the morning/because I can't sleep when I know you're upset...
And I know that I'm young/and I know that you're busy/I know that I'm not what you planned and it doesn't make sense/but the problem is when I'm around you my heart is a tympany drum and my mind is a mess/and the only thing in this whole world that I want is to see/you/smile.
So if you'd let me I'd like to be someone who stays up till 5:15 in the blue morning and watches the sunrise with you from a rooftop/and looks at you like you're a dream.
And I love when you stutter and trip like a brook on your words, little pebbles that tumble out jumbled/I love how you laugh and the way the world fades when you look in my eyes and take/my breath/away.
I'd like to be someone whose voice makes you smile, whose bad jokes cheer you up on your cloudiest days/whose eyes in the dark tell you "You're the whole world, and there's nothing so wonderful as your next phrase."
I love that you hug me for longer than I have expected whenever you leave me behind/and I love that sad moment when I linger watching you go cause I can't walk away when I know you're still there...
And I love all your scars and the way you've endured and I want to be all that you're missing.
And if you'd let me I'd love you through all of your faults and your petty mistakes and your failings/and I'd be the steadying arms every bad day and the voice that cuts through your self doubt to say you are amazing/and I'd be a love of your life because I'd be so sure that you'd always be just what I wanted/and I'd bring you flowers at 4 in the morning/because I can't sleep when I love you so much...
If you'll let me I'll be your adoring companion/here, quiet and sure that you're brighter than all of the stars/if you let me I'll love you with all of the parts of me I have held back and I'll give you the world/and the only thing in this whole life that I'll want is to see/you/smile...
If you'll let me.

One day, I know
that he will ask
questions,

Children have a way
of noticing things
that are there,

seeing shapes
and shadows
that aren't,

A special talent for noticing
missing things and finding
words to help them understand
what shadows mean
and how the sun shines.

Some children grow up
and ask where the sun
goes when the shadows

grow,

I know

that the silver
lining is a cliché,
but I keep looking at the clouds
expecting a miracle,

but the rain brings
no relief,

only pelts me with reason
after reason to keep writing
to you, even though you'll
never read these words,

I know one day

he will.

The sun always shines,
somewhere,
even on the cloudiest
nights, silver lines slice
through in patches,

and all the shapes
and shadows tell
me that.

I smelt the rain before it came, as
The smiling sun was tucked away.
I knew then that the time had come-
For singing children with kites were done,
Their joys and smiles gone with the sun.
And butterflies
(yellow, orange, and blue)
Had to run and hide
Until the storm was through.
These daffodils, lilies, roses, too,
Will stand beside me,
Water rushing at the knee-
A thousand city skylines,
Waters fallen previously,
Gigantic ships tucked in a bay,
All stand waiting for this day.
Like abandoned cars upon a country road,
They will take on every load.
Here I am,
Arms to the sky,
Like those daffodils on the
Cloudiest day, the loudest night.
Every piece of grass,
Every grain of sand,
The rain stops for no beast,
The rain stops for no man.

It isn't the quality of the words that measure truth
it's the men we all see with such clear eyes
Two brothers trapped in a pitched battle
echoes of their roots displayed in a contest of wills
two brothers follow the same dream
two brothers dance the same songs
We can never stop being who we are
we can grow thriving under a perfect sun
but our roots forever spread from the single source
our birthplace and home
Two brothers trapped in a pitched battle
find peace at last in each others truth
we are the same inside the dream
we are fellow travelers
whose nature it is to find hope and love
in the cloudiest of days

i want to hold my hands in your hair forever
because i feel that they would be
safest there
and i want to stare into your eyes forever and read them
let me study you and breathe you in  

let me kiss your pain away
and make you laugh because darling your laugh
echoes off the walls of this empty house and for that moment
i find so much peace

tell me everything you are passionate about
the things you hate and what makes your eyes sparkle
like they do and when they flicker briefly with excitement i
want you to grab my hand and spin me around

you are this faint ray of sunshine on the
cloudiest and greyest of days
i will cherish you even after i die

Love not forgotten, just placed on the back burner.
And one is reminded of a photograph with past lovers.

It never took much for you to make me weak.
The loving you gave sent chills down my spine,
made my soul do cartwheels,
and made my heart do back flips.
You felt the same. I know because I felt my energy
dance on your heart, and I could tell
when it got down to your bones.
I took the kinks out of your soul
and made life a smoother ride.
We were breaths of fresh air we both needed,
and we gave our spirits what they yearned for.

Ice cold winds beating against our faces.
Laughter so joyous it brought about permanent smiles.
You were contagious in the best way possible.
On the cloudiest day, the sun decided to break through
and make an appearance when we got closer to his space.
Knowing that you were the brightest star
that afternoon and he could never compare to you.
Gazing at each other and saying "I love you"
is what we did best that day. Moving my hands
so my fingers intertwined with yours,
with intentions of never letting go.
Placing kisses exactly where they belonged.
And our reciprocal love filled the air
Everyone could feel it. All eyes were on us.

Now we are strangers in different locations,
with hearts in different races
and minds in different places.
And we are left with a photograph
containing a love that ignited a fire in me
to create poetry.
*4514

Blooming in the heart of the sky
Gentle and free
Like a vibrant butterfly
You're a gladiolus
Supreme in it's strength
And you're so beautiful
You're heaven sent
You're gracious
A melanin queen
Your smile is like diamonds
At the bottom of a clear stream
You are the moon and the sun
Your laughter is infectious
And your presence feels like a warm embrace
You have an aura so luminous
It brightens up my world on my cloudiest days

the sun does not always shine on our lives so we
can bask in the rays of ultraviolet light beams. but
somewhere else in the world, the sun
is shining when the sun cannot be visible
in our light. The moon sacrifices itself for the sun
introspectively and mends a constitution of
unity and seizing the battles the sun faced with the moon.
the moon sacrifices itself to let the sun in to warm up
the world during the day. The moon desperately loves the sun.
even on our cloudiest of days someone is looking to the sky and seeing
the same sun, in the fellowship of unity of the world, the sun’s
always somewhere.

c.a.

With you in my life
My smile is so genuine
They never understand why
We go to and fro
And always end up
Together
But i try to explain
Because to me it's quite simple

You're my sun in the cold
And my wind when I'm hot
When I look at you
I think of the northern lights
And I can almost
See them dancing
In your eyes when you look at me
My heart is aflame
With passion
With words that my lips
Never fathom

You will always be my weakness
And my strength in life
And I hope we never part ways
I hope this love is as eternal
As it seems to me
I believe your it
Your the only one
I want to spend the
Rest of my life with

You will always be my sunshine
Even on the cloudiest days
You will aways be my king and I shall
Eternally be your queen
We are a love unlike any other

Nothing in the world
Can change the connection we have,
The way my heart still
Skips,jumps and tingles
Nothing will ever change
The fact that I love you.

My head has become a very hard place to survive in
It is not a wasteland, no,
It does often grow these flowers
But acidic waste does sometimes
Drip in the rivers and streamlines
Of thoughts, floating carelessness
Down canals and connecting neurons
Under bridges that young couples walk over
And the older ones stop to peer to
It oozes bright yellow
Staining the rocks and sand
And bird’s winged-tips
Dying the world a mess of
Fluorescent greens and blues
Illuminating the cloudiest of days
The characters of my brain
Enjoy the toxicity
Jump in the pools formed from acid rain
Raise their faces to the red burned sky
And let each drop absorb into their skin
I do not know why my head has become
An expert on chemical excesses
It is survivable if you let it all
Soak in

that's the thing on the tip of my tongue
in a heart i felt nothing

but i had some dawns in me already
breaking truth

that else is not always else
and my self was not always myself
and i trust this and i need this truth

and if it's called selfishness
then i admit it to be
i swear it to be
because a heart where there is nothing else
only comes about for me

an end, i reach, came finally
all that was amind
was mine.

the biggest fog, cloudiest bog
aggregated aggravation
wish i could go around and change the notation

never MIND the abject self-criticality
i mind it the most when you mess with my practicality

cause i'm sick of this big big fog that i carry in me.
you wanna carry this for me?
i carry it for no reason but
an old commitment i used to have for interreality

and this isn't really my reality
this is your reality

so we play, and when we do, we play across the line
and when we cross your faults, they become mine
but like always
i'll take them
it's fine

forgetting i'm already sick of the weather
forgetting i don't know how to make it better
forgetting it forgetting it

filled of others
I'M FILLED with others
of what else?

you say else never was the anti-me
but i fought inner wars to have it reconciled in me

well, in any case,
your else, i used to make it mine

but here i fulfill my own. disown disown disown

cause i've laid no ties to this weaky throne
nor to the cloudy ****** weather i'm gonna have
overthrown

belonging to all these people i asked to leave me alone
by the way, they never left me alone
till i finally left me alone

honey i'm home
honey honey
i'm home
i'm more than skin i'm more than bone
but i'm not you
i'm my own


i keep thinking
if only i had known

if only i had known

Where do you see the moonlight in the darkest of days and the worst of nights?
Where do you see the warm sun-rays among the storms and the terrible weather?

Perhaps you are mistaken,
and there never is any light when days are dark,
and there never are any sun-rays in the storm,
and you're conceptions are simply askew.

Are you delusional?
Perhaps I am insane,
for never looking at the moon at night,
during the cloudiest of days.
And I am so, so insane,
for never checking for any sun,
while I struggle to survive the winds of life.

Will I try and search for the moon's light,
in the wild forests and with the pitch-black glow,
and allow myself to get lost?
And will I try and search for the sunlight,
in the plains and amid the harsh hurricane,
and allow myself to get attacked?

purest flowing clarity
resembling the innocence of a child's soul
lies in the muddiest and cloudiest
rivers

within us all.
it flows within our veins

if you only let the light shine through.

Slept the slumber of exhausted thought process and still came out numbed and humbled to the prospects
Higher living is imagined in cloudiest view form and hard as ever to earn, I could have nothing or everything
Given the chance to perform
I'd share what I've learned
Had it given gifts of light and had it taken by needy individuals revolting for their own lot in life
I'm talking revolution in looting
And sinners with spite, noseless sight seeing and forests that block trees
I've walked long enough for the vantage point
Poked the bear to bleed
Patched the relativity with a higher power I find awkwardly daunting
The back and forth of ****'em but save me in the moment is all together haunting
A never ending melodic type of heathens dance
When all I'm saying, is take a deep breath, right?
And give peace a chance