There is a bright light
That which leads to a bike
An enchanting, gravitating and inticing light

I found myself reaching for it
Then there was thunder
Which was followed by rain
Heavy, threatning rain

I retreated
I felt defeated
The surrender and defeat, however could not withstand
My gravitation towards the bike

Then, there was raging thunder
And heavy, presistent protesting rain
As I reached for the bike
The rain became more enraged

But it could not withstand
My desire
My strong desire
To ride away
With the wind blowing in my face

I grabbed the bike
The rain ceased
And I rode and rode away
Away from the dark clouds

I splashed into the puddles as I peadled
I felt the sting of the water on my legs
There were many many puddles

Im my path there was a hill
A very steep hill
And I saw a light at the top
An enchanting, gravitating and inticing light

I peadled, peadled and peadled
My feet began to ache
My knees began to inflame
And sweat found home across my forehead

The bike laid almost still on the hill
Barely moving an inch
Yet my body felt like it had rode across the world

The gears were changed
Yet the distance was not
My control of the bike was lost

I rolled away, away and away
Backwards
I fell at the bottom of the hill with a thud
A loud thud of defeat
And bruises of failure

I blamed the rain
There was nothing I could've done
The rain stood in my way
Eliminated the friction  
My ticket to the light

I laid there

Then I got up
Rode the bike up the hill
I fell again  
And again I got up
And again I fell
And again I got up
And again I fell

Until the bright morning sun
Transformed into a blazing sunset
After many falls
After many bruises
I was again on the steep hill
Peadling, peadling and peadling
Until I saw the light

Pressure rising
Pulse subsiding
Outside flying
Inside I'm crying
Problems dying
To much lying
No more denying
I know this is trying
Tired of the spiting
I see you've been hiding
Becoming, abiding
It's time for some guiding
It seems so inticing
To rid the unexciting,
Coinciding,
Whining
Jeopardizing,
Stereotyping,
To only bring on,
A new horizon

immensely immersed in
pensive verses
that don't make sense.
pencil thin & shrinking.
thinking about the end
before the **** begins
is just...
ignorant.

hi.
I'm comin to
all yall still alive
from down in the
diamond mines &
I'm having a helluvatime
winding around the spine
& biting through the wires.

I am not of your kind.

I am gypsy science.
I am high minded & iron sided
& I like fire & liars
& violence & thieves        
I find them quite inticing
since there was no one to supervise or guide me but thats fine with me
but it is tiring spiraling between
subterranean lows
& olympian peaks.

Like qualified pilots who have lost control of their aircraft.
My strength and confidence is has been drained,
I have non no more.

Like the aircraft falling apart in mid-air.
I feel my self shatter,  
I can feel that am breaking,
I know that i have been splintered
And only love can stir me back into position.

With every piece of debri falling from the sky,
And into the middle of nowhere but the hospitality or open seas.
I am lost, deep in the depths of lonliness.
Sinking fast into the scary world of heartbreaks.

Falling so quick it cannot be stopped the last crush of the rest of the aircraft has been captured by the creatures of the sea and no other witness.
Sudden silence and then whispering waves hidding all the evidence,

I keep faking my smile everyday,
Being welcomed by a pool of tears every night.
The only witness present is my sobbered pillow.

Yet like air controllers,  
Those who care seem to wonder
"What on earth has happened to her sparkle?"
"The most inticing eyes have been powdered with grey"
"Where has she lost her zeal,
Her love for nature is gone,
What happened to all the inspirations that made her write?"
And at the back of my mind i wish somebody would get the answers.

All the answers can only be found by the search rescures,
Maybe somebody out there knows i need help, 
Somebody willing to get all the answers,  i guess...

Somehow i know,
That my heart like a black box lies,  
In the deepest ends of the sea bed.
Unless some one comes and opens it,
I will never really know is wrong with me.

Don't breathe
If you breathe
He will hear you
He will find you
And you will die.

You see him
Through the slits in your door
And he sees you
But still you hold your breath.

He calls out your name
His voice soft
Inticing
He says that he gives up
Like this is some sort of cruel game of hide and seek.

Your lungs burn from lack of air
Your body aches
Tears fall silently from your eyes
Don't make a sound.

Without warning the door slams open
You see his dark eyes filled with
Anger
Hate
Love
His mouth curles up into a smile

"Hello Sunshine."

One year ago.
The memory envelopes me in a sweet happiness I can’t deny.
So why do my eyes insist on me to cry?
Something about that time, so new and exciting
One year ago
Makes the future seem more inticing
So I drift into sleep
Clutching the memory of
One year ago
Never dreaming to let go.

A dew drop splashes a pink blossom
Her petals cry and search for warmth

Dawns dance begins with a buzz and a bumble

Sweet nectar oozes from flowers blooming
inticing thorned insects

Plumes release perfumes of pollination
on bumbling lazy journeys

Scents and spores buzz from bloom to bloom

As Mothers natural scents and beauties
ensure her eternal grace

Why does one feel the need to taunt fire.
Dangle just above.
Inticing pain.
Disregarding consequence
As if bathing in such might just scorch away the sins still felt.
From the last searing moments.
Is it hope.
This irrational graspless object.
That most won't leave the house without it.
Tomorrow..
Must be the time in which truth is found.
Even if questioning existence to faceless figments is the requirement.
Over and over does the rabit hole disintegrate the mind.
Until.
The next choice is presented.

i just happen
to stop by
happenstance?
or
the right time
circumstance
you could be right
on this
coincidental rhyme

takes me where
i need to be
on this wild
imaginary stream
from point a
to point b
on through
z
in reckoning

in the light
of ties that bind
bring it all
into light
line by line
by
inticing line
on this
coincidental rhyme  

in the turning
of the page
secrets there
to give away
brought to you
this truth
face to face
as this rhyme
makes its way

wrap the finger string
and pull it tight
keep it there
to remind
of the day
you chanced to find
the jest
of this
coincidental rhyme

In distant days of yore a myth was born. A nightmarish place written in folklore. A place of horror , misery and decay.

The trees, tangled and foreboding, impatient for flesh... screaming, craving. Wildlife avoids the twisting limbs a sinister secret lies within.

Silent, sentient. Alert, hunting. The thirsty branches feeling, sensing. The abomination of nature beckons to the unwary. Sweet perfumes infuse the air inviting and inticing. Death, cold swift merciless, awaiting.

A lost traveller wanders intoxicated by the heady scent. The trap is sprung! Another victim, hot fresh blood! Nourishment.

Snaking branch snatches the poor unfortunate. Slashing ripping as the life force splashes on the insatiable ground. The Crimson Forest revels in an ecstatic ****** ****... unbound.

Strange, dark and malevolent the trees grow strong gorged on fresh blood

Demonic, carnivorous. Vampiric, monstrous. A grove of death trapping and feasting for a thousand years. Sustained by the blood of countless thousands of empty drained bodies.

sometimes
i want to open up my head
and scratch the itch in my brain
that will never go away
and it leaves me wallowing in pain
making me wish i was in a grave

instead i lay in my bed
for five days straight
and wonder why i can't move
when i know that it's all you
constantly ruining my mood
and i am only twenty-two

counting the days i have left to live
counting the beats my heart struggles to make
i know that it's difficult to love me
which is why my loneliness is inticing
all i wanted was to be something
instead i think everyone hates me

I don't know how I'm supposed to heal
If I keep drowning in you
How am I supposed to act like you don't exist

What an inticing reality
One where I haven't suffered
One where I haven't felt pain

I have endured so much
And it's supposed to make me stronger

Why do I feel weaker?

Purrrfect
whisper these words and you will find them to be your best friend
Purrfect
The most inticing words of the english language
Words that control our culture and our society seems to be secretly based on
Plastered pictures of perfection
Skinny models that eat burgers
That's perfection
She can eat and be skinny
Why can't we all?
Purrfect is a seductirist
She seduces you into believing that if you are "good enough"
Do everything and all things "right"
You'll be loved forever and nothing bad will ever happen
Purrfectttt, just be purrrfecttt
Always so, always do, always look your best
Perfect is the goal
That is forever unachievable, yet everywhere we see the desire to be perfect
Well if you dress with brand labels, you play multiple instruments, you're trending on twitter, and have a million insta followers plus a banging bond, and you eat what the ******* want while rocking a size zero, and you date the hottest guy that worships you but you don't worship him and you have zero negative emotions and are always smiling, and have the job you've always wanted or you get to travel because money just floats out the air and you got nothing to worry about because you're on the cover of all the magazines
You're purrrfecttt

Hateful ignobility wrought upon us these
Blissful fragments of tormented peace.
What shall be said, to our high priest,
"King!" Amassed before the lowly beast.
Unfiltered foolishness rid us our dream
"Avaunt! There is no place for you to bring."
Wherefore betwixt the serpent's gaze malicious,
Bloomed a thousand vibrant fruit precocious?

Anon I cast this body ablaze, amaze!
No ceasing tongue could me more grace.
Writhing agony upon the stakes makes
Not a sight inticing of my craves.
Heresy upon heresy, to dare invade
This earthly domain we've made.
The fig tree bears no fruit, thus let it
Be jilt upon the basket we knit.

Still are adored these little green branches,
And their pink buds, yet undone, too, matches.
This twilight over the hill, dusks before dark,
This half light erelong, stars unmarked.
Forsooth the answer ought come, but
Wilt it be made known to such a mutt?
Curtains will close, roses will wither,
Wherein will we know to go thither?

This mud, tis cold. This grass, tis old.
And there's nothing else in sight.