We all feel insecure now and then,
even without infidelity lurking in the background.
We don't deal  with *******
but some people are just bullshitting in the background

People wear masks on standby, maximizing opportunities.
Just like crows waiting for the right time,
to attack and slip between lapses,
lapses you and I just don't mind.

I personally feel bad dealing with these thugs,
as if I have nothing against them,
I'm just having a hard time to hide and let them pass through
I'm always a giver in this game.

Forgive me if I'm this cold,
I'm a first timer to live in this house of odds.
I preach art and believer of reality
and I cannot easily hide my thoughts

Jealousy stings and hurt sometimes
and You have nothing to prove to me.
it is just the natural outside forces
that is is getting into my nerves, It kills me.

sterilize my mind
you
are an addictive habit
maybe if i chew gum
with the flavor of you
i can beat this addiction

If my canvas was removable
I'd have snakeskin sheddings
piled at my feet
tattooed by a pen in
languages I'm still learning.
Lessons may have missed,
but concepts still birth
third-eye conception,
without static
the reception looked perceptive
but lacked the proper method of thought,
though those with lacked grasp
are gasping to breathe,
are constantly seething
in serial reading,
your glasses reflect crystal *****.
Distortion skewed what you said,
proportionately blowing away my thoughts
with what wrath you wrought,
temper tempering timid temerity
to take tricks to the thoughtless actions
making affairs public
and tricks tickets to freed selves.
I'm tired of feeling like an addict,
your trips to town
leaving me shaking,
the absence
a strong shot of absinthe
followed by detoxification
of my blood
and thoughts.
Atrophy caused apathy
and heart-rot.
This shaking has to stop
or these words will forever
go unread.
Lines becoming waves
I'm seasick off thinking,
sea, I'm sick of thinking,
sick, I'm sea, cool blue
holding vast universe
and creation claimed creatures
in crevices buried
under self.
Thunderheads strike me
with glimpses of brilliance
as they reiterate what already was,
composing a self-made being
prophesised by ancients
who became whole,
a collected conference of ne'er-do-wells
and great lakes of depression
mistaken as puddles when the clouds
reanimate their deadened self
with soul of we,
with ***** and spirits,
both happy and deadly
lost only in the way
they lost self
to selfish thoughts
of a growing (m/w)e.
And when essence is discarded,
replaced by common cents
or otherwise deemed useless
we are left to wonder,
who's this?
Eyes
look, nearly censored
by silver backings and
dulled centers
seem lacking in humanity,
left more to primal urges,
hunting for those thoughts
left behind and gathering
pieces of rotheart
to rekindle that passion we've forgotten
after complacency compromised
our composure,
leaving heads slung in hopes of finding
a small piece of fragmented earth
in which to glimpse
a reflection of our core.
It lies dormant, though not dead,
we fear eruption of emotional enticement,
instead sleeping giants be we,
volatile and awe some,
do not catch eyes
lest we be the last things seen,
two peaceful for something not known
in the unknown languages
that cover us,
nor seen in the depths
of collective conscious,
though treating us apart,
hair by hair,
limb by limb,
being by be ing we are separating,
nay, unraveling,
untangling me from the complications
of we
only to see we
are incomplete and
alone.
Broken to pieces it's easier
to accept
the whole of who we are.

The clouds disperse in my head
When you're laying in my bed
when we roam
in the same home
Im not scared
For me you have repaired.

It is in Hindu mythology
Shiva is the god of immortality
Today is Mahashivratri
Marking it as marriage anniversary
of lord shiva and goddess Parvati
Day is celebrated with
worship of Lord Shiva
by fasting ,meditation
and performing yoga
Night is spent keeping awake
and singing devotional songs
to receive great compassions
What a nice ritual of
detoxification in India
With so much fun fair
and scientific idea.

the humiliation
attempting multiplication
is a discrimination
filling all emotions with frustration
trying to send help of communication
to a genius
showing no blood relation
in a habitation where Ax and Bx showing a result of Cx
introducing a collaboration
with letters sends a illustration
to the mind causing hallucination
just a pigment of imagination
slight vibration
desperately needing a detoxification
of education
to wrap your thoughts around this generation
seeking the need for popularization
but the mind is in a mental restriction
start a petition
to conquer the satan of calculation
but so far no documentation
of the closed corporation
of the mad minded mathematician
so you're living in devastation
suffering while you work at a gas station
from no graduation
or thoughtful congratulations
all because you forgot the capitalization
for a math symbol
on a test
because of the lack of specification

Make a reservation
for the realization
that math
does not
always make
sense.

I keep writing down the year as if it means anything to me dear
I don't feel connected,
just another spirit lost.
Gone is that turned leaf.
And his mother still faces him in his wildest nightmares and keeps him home,
and his mother cries tears and whiskeys down her pain. She can't do this on her own,
but she's holding on; for the sake of them both.

It makes him happy to know that he was actually a part of the family before he left
and I can't speak for him, but I sure know when someone loses their mind again,
better keep it on the downlow, because nobody wants to go to detoxification home, no.

So, I won't report
and he sings with me, and he lives with me and he loves me indeed. He just can't see about me,  can not even breathe...
and you can't even see that
Our ideas linger together, and it makes us both in company just like it should be.

here they go again , these experts
telling us things to sadden the heart:
game may not be that safe to eat
running river water is never a treat
for it carries upstream decadence

here they go again, these stuffed-shirt experts:
water is two to one hyydrogen and oxygen
boiled, the oxygen steams away into the air
and your cappuccino has a hydrogen flavour
we endanger our lives when it we drink and savour

here they go again, the learned heralds of demise
they tell us that nothing we can ever devise
can avert the armageddon that's surely coming
the entropy or second law of thermodynamics
transforms physicists into latterday prophets

here they go again on prime media, the erudite experts
talking about free radicals, anti-oxidants, titanium utensils
and the havoc that excess proteins, fats and carbohydrates can cause
it’s time to go puritan and vegetarian in this new poisonous present
where fun is frowned upon and barbecues are a deadly pastime

in this age of dietary enlightenment and forced moderation
we must eventually go raw in our cuisine and be natural about it
or perhaps be as creative as possible before the nutritionists come in
to tell us how not to cook our food and how not to eat it
living was great fun before this age of detoxification and cancer!

Life tosses a conciliatory bone,
A string of tiny texts form a story,
Written in pages interwoven across the day.

But I'm still trapped in mid-week,
Looking forward through Wednesday's bars,
To a weekend's promised freedom.

I claim the night as my own,
But am cheated by the dawn,
Alone at the end of the rave.

With my summer spent,
And winter yet to be earned,
I finish my colourless breakfast solemnly.

My detoxification becomes a hollowing of the soul,
An empty vessel left listlessly on the sea,
Floating in an ocean of conspiracy.

I said hello like I thought you'd notice (you didn't)
and for once I didn't feel like repeating myself.
*******, you helped me notice all the things I hated,
all the things I loved.
Kept me wanting change.
Detoxification of thought,
purification of the soul.

You speak in sentences that are based on creative-product output,
it seems you don't care if you make sense or not, 'cause nothing in
this world is trying to fit to you.
So, why try and fit to it?
Or at least that's what I perceive you to think.
I guess we could think better of each other in a healing space
if we're all touching each other with good intentions.

Yet it seems these fingers that reach you can't heal in the way they intend,
'cause this nervousness is stemming from the inappropriate feelings that root themselves
from my core. **** love, **** this feeling.

I want a love that doesn't make me wrong in someone else's eyes,
much less my own.  **** this feeling.

*******, you are beautiful.
You are something else,
someone that would smile at the thought that
this is about you.
*******, I can't stop saying the same things.

Keep me close, I've crept out of my hole
and I can't stand it alone.
I haven't even touched my water colors.

Too afraid to poison you with the truth,
too afraid to taint what is beautiful.

**** this feeling.
I want to.
**** this feeling.

Strumming the guitar



I keep writing down the year as if it means anything to me dear
I don't feel connected,
just another spirit lost
gone is that turned leaf.
And his mother still faces him in his wildest nightmares and keeps him home,
and his mother cries tears and whiskeys down her pain. She can't do this on her own
but she's holding on; for the sake of them both.


It makes him happy to know that he was actually a part of the family before he left
and I can't speak for him but i sure know when someone loses their mind again
better keep it on the down-low, because nobody wants to go to detoxification home, no.


So, I won't report
and he sings with me, and he lives with me and he loves me indeed. He just can't see about me,  can not even breathe...
and you can't even see.

Our ideas linger together, and it makes us both in company just like it should be.

You're still in my body.
But not in the way I used to crave.
And maybe sometimes, if I admit it to myself, still do.
The detoxification process is a slow, torturous road.

I still watch your expressions.
The many faces of you.
Maybe I read them all wrong.

It's not my fault
I fell in love with a parasite.

Soil.
Terra firma sprout micro cosmic breath.
Birth of opportunity, a shift from dis-ease towards immunity.
From ill tongued venom come rain drop detoxification, through the depths of these roots immeasurably extended.
Elixir drip clarity, sweet kilig remedy.

Clear the calendar and fluff the pillows
Show all visitors to the door
Lift up my fist and smash all the mirrors
It's not going to be my fault anymore

Lay blame where blame is due
Detach myself from what was you
Love kills even when it's true
Time hurts and heals, too

And though this verse is uninspired
My mind and spirit give it tired
Permission to go wild
A rogue message to no one out there who cares

For there is no solution to sadness
Only the choice between
Strength and madness
And in between
A rebellious and deliberate sickness
A detoxification
A humming, buzzing
Refusal of all but the air

if I take a bath it is because I need the sweat of you washed off my skin.
if this bath is concentrated with Epsom salts it is because they will physically pull you out of my system
- a detoxification of the memories of the way your head felt between my thighs/your hands creating fingerprint bruises on either side of them.
if I see you and run away it is because you draw out my blood and devastate my heart. there is no poetic way of saying this.
if I can not look you in the eye it is because being so close physically pains me. nostalgia beating down my chest and I have no choice but to selfishly grip onto any available flesh. I always regret it.
if I can not meet with you it is because you are the longest pain my body has suffered and for once my brain is working harder than my heart.

A new dawn
Invigorating thoughts
For a fresh start
First day today

Renaissance for existence
Last day for apathy
Ended with apathy
Never knew feeling sorry
Gave a high with reasons to cry

A habit needing detoxification
A depressant masquerading as a Stimulant
Hopefully doesn't have withdrawal
Time to search for an ananymous

Faith and hope
Crutches to embrace
Every corner a Chicane
Emphasis is in the Details

Have our events laid out
The day awaits us with its rest
Mimeographs our plans
Or undoes it with its own

A dog with two tails
Feeling the blues
As the day goes by
Destiny will swing by

Horizon of happenstance
We cannot comprehend
What we can comprehend
Not meant to plan and understand

Routine like a few before
Surprises in store like a few before
Both might take a new meaning
In the meaning lies the message

Don't double guess
Just don't guess
Don't try to beat it
Don't withdraw from it

There is no escape route
Plan B will end where Plan A has reached
Flexible and with the flow
No plan required to follow or destiny's pill to swallow

Looking to duplicate
Personalities alternate
Entire life dedicate
Personality to integrate

Intellect and achievement
Rated high and respected
Succeeded where you failed
On a higher pedestal placed

Leads to a disorder
You become your own reporter
Narrating events like a news reader
Reality is you want them to underwrite your behavior


Seeking ratification
Under the assumption
Of their ability to function
Cause of all the confusion


This is the very foundation
Where acts and thoughts become dependent
On their ratification
Thinking it's the final Solution


Dependency is a disease
Where you are at ease
Responsibility lies with these
Who make your decision making process a breeze


Every major or minor decision
Calling for their attention
Forcing them into a conclusion
Strengthening the equation

Emotional dependence
Two sides of the same weapon
You can never fathom
Life without their wisdom

Without your knowledge
Comes the whole package
Lived life under their tutelage
Own life unable to manage


When not on the same page
You earn their displeasure and rage
When and where did all this oringinate
The day you started becoming their baggage

Updating and hoping
They approve your actions
Laying out future desires
Expecting like minded answers

Asking for advice
Yearning for guidance
Learning a life'llesson
Can be forgiven


Stage of conclusion
Because of your dependence
End up a nuisance
Affecting their existence
Your presence no more a pleasant experience

Unpardonable the act
To keep your life in track
Using ploys to attract
Their time spent in you intact

An addiction by definition
Without any consideration
Operating under the notion
Your lifes quest their only option

Time and Privacy respected
Best way to stay endeared
Time and privacy hindered
Perfect reason to be cornered

Their time taken for granted
The mistake committed
Too late to realise
Your mistake already transcended

A baggage not worth to carry
Your life they need not worry
Get your life in order
Either way it doesn't matter

As with any addiction
Answer lies in detoxification
Celebrate your uniqueness
Learn to live with the consequence

Looking to be funded
Seems like life has ended
Financial dependence paves
For Relationships decadance

Even bread and butter
If unable to muster
Seeking outside a blunder
Die it doesn't matter

Hobbies and collections
Seasonal and flippant
Want to possess them
Bad luck live without them

A lone traveller
On a trip
I don't know where
The destination is
Drifting along where
The waves of destiny
Take me along
My uncle my mentor
Passed away
A couple of weeks back
Reiterated the fact
That i have no clue
What my future has
Planning predicting and preparing
There of the greatest vices
Detoxification centres required
To rid me of this habit
Facing withdrawal symptoms
Intensity not reduced
Corrected myself of
Not living in the future
Based on the dreams
That play in my head
Self sufficient are those
Who stand alone
The others follow in a crowd
Am i self sufficient i don't know yet
Trying to be in that process
Still work in progress
Not excited not scared
What is tommorow going to bring
Even tomorrow does is not aware
Of the events lined up within
An engine pulling the carriages
With no rear view mirror
I dont await  it
For I'm not sure
If iam in it