Does your skin feel as if it is on fire?
I know mine does.
Can we compare burns, i'd like to share mine with you but can you obligate
my best interest.

Tell me everything, tell me everything you know.

Can we see what we are made of from blank scars? That our arms
are weighted to hold.

Are we made of flesh or bone? Or are we simply made of flint and steel
with a heart cast in tinder. That can be lit so easily with the slightest
emotions of distress.

Tell me your stories, as we compare all our catastrophes.

This one
That one
This time
That time

Tonight we are pushing aside all the stress as the world is ignited
in the ashes of charred coals.
The voice in your head, that you come to for comfort slowly breathing on the open ash
reigniting the pain.

Show me your bruises, hiding on the hardening concrete you call skin.
Everyone holds them, we just don't know how they got them.
we don't know who put them there
or why.

Tell me everything. Tell me everything they know.

Do you feel the burning growing and growing crawling out from underneath your eyes
letting tides of tears flow. They say you will feel better if you take this pill

you think you will be normal if you take this pill.
you think you will be accepted if you take this pill.
you think this pill is an exit.
an exit at 3am in the morning when you found out this pill does nothing
but transcend past your mind, portraying a self fixed image in the mirror.

The door is locked
The ringing wont stop
Screaming, but that whisper that same whisper that told you to do it
is gone.

-Wynterz Phyer

get your ***** ******* grubs off of me,
i am not going to bargain
a cartesian dualism with the notion
that the body can overcome the mind
with exercise gimmicks:
you, *******, guinea nimwit!
        i used to slap my grandfather's
sheen on a bold, but otherwise
bald cranium for jokes,
  and flick his remaining hairs into
the air to reveal a hidden jack
nicholson, i also called the police
and had him institutionalised with
psychiatric aid, for throwing my
grandmother through a glass door and
breaking her arm...
       me?! you'll get more
apologetic "nuance" about drinking
from a priest than from, me!
         i turn ugly, silently,
       i just abhore this antique deal
with descartes,
               i don't know why why that
the body can overcome the mind...
or why blankety-blank trivia is to solve
the matter...
or whether pumping iron helps...
      by this point i''m not writing:
i'm coal-mining, i'm digging...
               the body, however perfect
will not unravel the problems of the mind,
attaining body antics perfected only
stalls the otherwise still present:
problems of the mind.
                       toxicology reports read:
adrenaline *****.
             sebastian mc'queer miss-match
between a cocktail waitress,
  a ******* bunny and a bartender named:
shteeve.
                 ******* waste of time
by my rubric of arithmetic...
  but at least ben affleck wasn't the worst
batman,
      we all know that george clooney was.
we have finally arrived at a loss
of mind-body dualism,
   we have achieved a dichotomy,
finally!
       we can, for the first time,
fathom clear segregating posits,
indicators,
                    membranes!
whatever noun you use -
                 the joke about schizophrenia,
is that it's not a joke concerning
        premature depression -
premature depression is more unusual
than premature dementia -
      there's the bicimeral theory
to begin with...
           unless of course you're dealing
with snowflakes who want languaage
as rigid as possible,
      readied for the acceptance of it,
like any type of i.k.e.a. put it together,
yourself, manual...
the mundane aspect of the whole affair
only breeds a gagging effect,
like choking on a 12" **** with your nose
pinched-shut,
  ******* disgusting;
  if i really wanted to draw a straight line
i wouldn't necessarily obligate language
to latex ******* *******...
           i'd be the one
adding oil to the fire, and wanting
unadulterated chaos,
  before the hell-fire focus of: inferno...
for language is just that:
   i abhor the term poet,
i prefer the term...
                               pyrotechnician...
i do not write poetry:
   i cement myself in pyrotechnics.
    i abhor this dualism -
            this notion that a sick mind can
be mended by being worked on by
a invigorated body,
      or that a sick body can be mended by
being worked on by an
invigorated mind...
   odd... to have such vehement emotions
surrounds a mere idea...
that there is no mind-body dualism,
but that there's a mind-body dichotomy...
and that there's only a mind-mind dualism
that, given the cartesian concept brideges
upon the res extensa: the extended thing,
whereby the mind-mind dualism
disintegrates when the notion of a, soul,
is involved / invested in,
perhaps as concrete rubric, or perhaps
as a mere cognitive, hobby...
  let us simply add:
   there are those who bow and pray and
pay due diligence to a god...
  while others, neither procrastinate themselves,
nor day allegiance to a, deity -
for there is so much more involvement in
entertaining the thought of a...
deity...
             and these cognitive
acrobatics never allow for a yawn
to be present, in their ritualistic endeavours,
with due need, or due, cause.

p.s. i think people really underestimate
schizophrenics, the abnormality of it
is fascinating...
      as is the case with the endeavour of
finding a soul, or as i like to call it:
the osmosis of psyche overpowering the mind,
and creating a mind-body dichotomy
rather than enforcing a mind-body "dualism"...
psychosis.
                   it's a shame how people
under-appreciate a mind-mind dualism...
a dualism, split, yet nonetheless whole...
     cf. julian jaynes...
                      but what isn't fascinating
is premature depression...
   that's just plain ******* tragic...
i can understand depression in old people,
who have actually accomplished something
in their lives...
but when it concerns youngsters?
completely unfathomable and
                    uninteresting to me,
on the basis that it's so abnormal that
it's suicidal and completely averted to
the otherwise schizoid exploratory tendency
of reintegrating a disintegrating form
of language structure... perhaps that's
a post-modernist statement...
but the "sane" always cite
being perplexed by language that's:
   non-instructive; b'aah b'aah...
******* herds, do we always have to whip
them into submission and cohort?
  yes, yes, the open end hyphen grammar
   -cohort-, that's transcendental grammar,
it's not supposed to be a noun,
rather, an adjective by-and-of-itself
revealing of the submissive character of
strict, military, discipline!
my ambition was never to write
a ******* i.k.e.a. manual for a: do it yourself
take on a folding chair!

We began with little mutations,
Harmless, or more so beneficial,
We adapted to our love,
With no methods of dispersal,
People thought we couldn’t get any closer,

But your behaviors changed and we began to isolate,
We were stabilized so I hoped for fusion,
But realized that overtime not even reinforcement could’ve helped,

We had our Kingdom set up,
And later we fell into a “Family”,
But you classified me too general,
Now I don’t know where I belong,

My feelings for you were like the Cambrian,
Sadly enough they became a catastrophe,
You started selecting,
Seeing me as worthless,
But I knew I am not one to select,

You looked at me like you’ve studied Phylogenetics,
I was at the most top,
But ended up at the bottom,
You were not natural, but neither was I,
What did our selections favor?

And our relationship turned into cloud and dust,
Sadly it collapsed,
And you left me imprints of lies and hurt,
And words preserved inside me like a cast,

You ingested away my feelings,
I was the pili so attached to you,
But you were an endospore resisting all of me,
You no longer knew what feelings were,

And to you, I was an annual,
Got replaced so quickly,
But I shed tears where the oceans have formed,
And supported you like the roots of trees,

But you were a virus,
A pathogen,
A parasite,
And I was the host,
Blinded by your toxins,

And my cells swelled in favor of you,
You offered me and I gladly took,
I thought I was an obligate,
Surviving off of you,
But I was too mindless to see the real you,

And I was like the Archaea,
Survived the harshest paths for you,
But with a single expression you crushed my world,
And like a Zygomycota you’ve molded our love away,

And sadly enough I couldn’t evolve,
With pain feeling like spikes inside,
I am no longer the magistrate of love,
And love is my killer.

I'm trying to live life to the fullest
and the meaning is on the crest
As I look at the sun
this fleeting feeling sweeps over me
the horizon will always be on the run
such an unnameable emotion
just out of reach, blowing in the wind
I'm becoming blind,
to what is really happening
I'm trying to harmonize
but instead I'm anathematised
it doesn't matter what time of day
or how I try to contemplate
I'm pushing you further and further away
I don't obligate  
you to stay    
you don't want to be analyzed
or rationalized
you're already leaving me behind
I'm just beginning to understand
self, mind, can you discern?
you radiate such command,
your meaning causes this yearning
I'm tantalized
and hypnotized  
then you start to depart
before I can truly see,
hear this plea  
to grant my desire to comprehend,
you're slowly slipping out of my grasp,
before I can write this fleeting,
fleeting thought down
you've already flown,
                                         flown far,
                                                            ­  far away............
                                                ­                                        ...............

Just when you notice that no one else will dance in the palm of your hand,
that no one else will bundle up the stars and make a planetarium of your days,
that no one else will stand a thousand daggers piercing their chest,
that no one else will carry the weight of your tears as they carry theirs,
that no one else will miss a ride around the clock with their friends or family for you,
that no one will take time to spill their heart on a blank sheet of canvas for your birthday,
in that still moment,
you will regret not picking out a second to sing me good night... that was all I asked.
And even then,
even if I catch you trying to make me feel fire inside me and try to catch a pinch of my attention,
I promise you can never light up angering jealousy in my chest,
you will never obligate me to crave another girl's pair of eyes.
I was gold you had and never deserved,
you drilled me as if I were infinite- and I was,
but not for you,
just for me.
You thought I was an ocean,
that I would always depend on you,
mysterious moon,
but that's not how it is:
I am the wind running through your hair.
You used to be such a big thing for me,
but I realized I am bigger.
You used to be my significant other,
my other half,
but I realized I am significant on my own,
that I am not a fraction,
that I am a whole.
You used to be the light of my days,
but I am no longer afraid of the dark.

Immediately impact in one's direction
Infection spreading airborne it's a feeling
Bias of understanding in saying
Actions speak louder than words
With life there are challenges and achievements
Dispute none of the two what's done is due
Either it's old or new
No need for fued, miss cultivated
Change comes to those that wait
Introduced by patience
CREATED obligate people revise
Things are consistently explain for the moment momentarily
Immediately impact in one's direction.

when we kissed i couldnt help but thinking
how we would lay in eachothers arms till we would be asleep and i imagined me, telling everything about my past exposing myself
and i didn't realize that you too, as being a human being,
had the ability to leave

and you did
just like my best friends did after i ran away from home
it was painful and i couldn't comprehend why
had i done something wrong?
i was certainly not enough, for otherways you'd have stayed
my best friends didn't stay and you followed their lead

now, months later i still dream about you
i obligate myself to distract my mind so that it will not wander to you but,
to be honest every night you enter my mind and it feels like i'm cheating
but it feels as such a relieve to think of you that once i start i cannot stop and than all of a sudden- it is two am and i become ******* sad because you don't even bother to say hi to me when you see mee

I joyously sing this song;
You too participate with fervour;
And don't obligate others,
But encourages them.
Relationship is in exile,
While Mobile on the throne.
I'm not passing the buck;
I'm in league with those
who banished him.
Is subject so ruthless
Instead of the king?
How much honest honour
We do of the new prince
That we're ready
to prostrate before him.
He is debauched,
still our beloved.
He has knifed us
and our progeny,
And we love him
for his sainthood.
Be wary of his treachery
Or we'll be left
stranded on the sin.
I've sung my song;
Play yours in public.
Relationship is in exile;
He must be brought back

hubris

cypher: d'
    'e
         -           antithesis
of non-negation: Tt...

i.e. to decipher: lost a
snake's tongue
and a tree's branching out
i.e. Y. (502 bad gateway bypass)

i'm coming up to doing this job for a year, come December,
late December i will have done this for a year,
time's up... time to rewrite my curriculum vitae
point to people who will give me references and apply
for a teaching job...
                                   if i can manage drunken football
spectators and people with mental health issues
freaking out on me and me calming them down...
if i can supervise a team of at most 15 people...
    i think i can tackle a bunch of rowdy teenagers:
even though i have this motto in my head...
sure, i could teach high school chemistry...
   i have the background for that, but...

sometimes it's not what you teach:
but who you teach it to...

same ****, different cover borrowed from that old chestnut
of: it doesn't matter what you know
but rather who you know...

if i could land a job as a primary school teacher i think
i would never again regret not having children
of my own...
i rarely do.... sometimes... there's this "evolutionary psychology"
element to my thinking but it rarely conforms to
what most people speak about...
notably about women...

women? how can i not love women...
i couldn't live with women,
i couldn't do what most men get up to with women
i see them with an invisible leash on their necks...
in the supermarket like down-trodden
beasts pushing the trolley while a woman
is throwing in, not necessarily good food...
certainly not vegetables, not fruits,
ready-*******-meals...
me?! i had a fancy for pizza today...
obviously i'm going to make it from scratch!
obviously i'm going to first make the rising
mixture of a little flower, dried yeast,
sugar and some water... wait for it to rise
and then make the pizza dough... d'uh...
but i see these guys with women who throw ready-made
meals into the trolley... seriously?!
one hour less watching pointless television
and enough time to make a PROPER MEAL...

i sometimes wish the television could be replaced
with a fireplace or... at worst an aquarium
with pretty fish in it... in between? *******...
esp. during the winter months...
i'm not even buying into the whole stereotypical
"oh honey, i'm tired, i have a headache"...
maybe i'm just a freak like that:
lethargy makes me *****, it's an aphrodisiac for me...

the best year of my life... state funding for
the drinking and the writing and earned money
for... prostitutes...
i don't believe in the concept of a worth of virginity...
women are like leather...
the best leather is worn leather...
over the past year having regular ***
(i try at least once a week, the rest of the time
i fill with epic cycling routes, reading, writing,
thinking, not thinking, drinking)
has taught me that there's this great veil
of ******* hanging over society...
clearly i'm a tame **** / a gentlemen or i'm sometimes
peeping into the extremities of ****** lives of...
not actual people: actors...
once more, to reiterate... we are living
under a Thespian Tyranny...

i once mentioned that we live under a Silicon Curtain...
if there was once an Iron Curtain coming from
the Soviet Union... now there's the Silicon Curtain
coming from stateless entities, companies...
who the **** knows or even bothers to care...
the media conglomerate coupled with internet social
media companies... oh... and let's not forget
the dating apps...

a rekindled fascination with Taoism from my teenage
years having found a pinpoint to a person
whom to associate Taoism with, i.e. Zhuangzi
have paid off... the best way you can help the world
is to forget the world and let the world forget you...
but with the current state of the world...
i'm growing "paranoid" / suspicious...
i'm on my own path, i'm living a life of a freedom
some kings would weep over to have...
i don't want to engage with the world...
i've forgotten the world, but it seems the world
wants to remember a little bit of me...

ooh yeah... that little mix of brandy and whiskey...
let's call her, i.e. the spirit: bra-     +   -ndy
                                                vs. bran-  +   - d(y)
          whis-  +         -key...

a quadratic... brankey... ****...
     brakey... sounds better...

                                   whisdy... whisp?! whisdy...
whiskey can be too smoky sometimes...
then again it can turn into bourbon and become too sweet...
there's a whiskey in between these two extremes...
but brandy, i.e. cognac?
the last one had an aftertaste of chocolate and charcoal...
charcoal is not smoky, it's bitter... so we're basically
talking bitter dark chocolate... which is ******* great...

but i'm bemoaning the fact that i won't be making
my own wine this year... i'll try to make a bottle or two...
but landscaping the garden left me with very little yield...
well... at least i made my favourite flavour ice-cream
this year... no ice-cream like it:
mint and chocolate-chip...
and never! ever! follow the recipes on the internet!
people have become either **** junkies,
or caffeine junkies or... SUGAR junkies...
sure... the Arabs are such greater men because
they have all these NIQAB hidden ****** fetishes
and they don't drink...
but aren't they BACLAVA MAD DIABETICS
on the verge of either amputated limbs or going blind...
but sure... sure... decent human folk because
drinking alcohol is b'ah b'ah bad... *******...

i hate sugar, i hate caffeine... water and nicotine
and vomiting like an Ancient Roman
in the morning... taking a ****... nice... esp. a well rounded
****... although a diarrhoea is just as pleasurable...
*******... hmm... that's a sea-saw debate...
one time true, another time not so...
kissing... or rather stealing kisses from prostitutes...
my grandfather collected stamps...
i steal kisses from prostitutes...

clearly we're living under a Silicon Curtain
and a Thespian Veil of Tyranny...
however we interact or however we love...
******* is not how *** looks like...
like i said before: maybe i'm a tame lover...
the most extreme i ever "accomplished"
was slapping the *** of the ******* top of me
or i either bit her lip, chin or nose...
not hard... i try to be tender...

it's so strange sitting across from 5 women...
and you ****** all 5 of them...
4 are smiling at you, enticing you,
but there's this one grumpy one growing a massive
frown on her face...
as if she's putting on make-up...
you have to go with her because she decided
to go on the pill just for you and for all
the heavens of unprotected ***...
you already bought her lingerie and now she's asking
for more gifts, i.e. jewelry... oh **** me...

i stopped listening to these promises of prostitutes...
this was the last time i listened to her,
we were supposed to spend an entire night in
a hotel room together... she failed...
fair enough... once i'm done ******* these five
i'll look for another brothel, simple!

the steady influx of money has released me
into unexpected territory...
i can finally scrutinise *******:
it's ******* unappealing... it's horrid...
it's acting with the gravest of consequences...
i want a tender ****...
i don't need this western bedroom barbarism!

and i haven't smoked marijuana in well over a decade...
chances being: the chance that was
Elizabeth II dying i met with this Afghan
"Jamie" and he gave me a pinch of the ****...
even i was surprised... i used to sit up and smoke
and listen to music and vaguely remember time:
because time extended into eternity when i did...
this time round?
first i had to take my first aphrodisiac:
lethargy from a shift...
my second aphrodisiac: a bottle of 8.2% dry cider...
basically half a bottle of wine...
aphrodisiac three: i had to walk alone
in the night... hmm... that "star" so close to the moon,
esp. when detailed on all those Muslim flags...
that's not a star... that's the planet Venus...
seems like Islam is a cult of the marriage of the Moon
with the planet Venus...
fourth aphrodisiac: a sip a two a three of
either whiskey or cognac...
fifth aphrodisiac: three cigarettes...

who the hell said you need chemistry to invoke
a hard-on?! well... if you're ******* a beached-whale
i wouldn't be surprised... if you have something
against a woman that's like a leather: of anything...
chair, sofa or jacket...
i found out that women "taste" better if
they have been with a man beside yourself...
they're... more keen... they actually have some:
"ambition"... no no... it's not arrogance...
they have... confidence....

and come to them akin to a ZZ-Top song:
sharp dressed men... they ******* lose it before finding it
very quickly...
the last one i had i first had a forced *******
with... luckily the ******* did the trick the first
time round: otherwise i would have left
frustrated... and howled into the night...

second time i don't remember...

third time? a talkative... スカ... SÜKA
   Ü = UU / Sue SOON... in the ****** zunge that's...
it's not *****, *****... it's a female dog that
readily gives *** to males...
not so talkative when the ******* began...
she contorted her face as if she was in pain..

it's a more endearing word than, say, KURVA...
i.e. *******, it's more a case of:
i'm *****, she's *****, i want to ****, she wants to
****... we ****...
but none of this pornographic extremes
of Thespian nymphomaniacs,
as a "poet" i feel i have a duty to obligate
people to turn away from these faceless
shadow-stealing phantoms...

this one writer in particular, a Joseph Roth from
the Austro-Hungarian Empire noted the rise
of the Thespians back in the earliest dictates
of the 20th century...
  
oh it was funny... i only paid for half an hour...
at least not half a steak and a ticket to the movies...
but as i was about to leave: ****'s sake...
another hard-on... but the ******* was pulled back...
dried up... i laughed, she laughed when i asked her for
some oil to lubricate and pull the ******* back...
well i can't be walking about
with an "unsheathed sword"... can i?

i like writing about women in a way that Marquis de Sade
never wrote about them, like i might have some
revenge strategy in place...
as long as i'm not lied to... i'm fine...
the moment people start spinning me fictions they
speak: but never write...
i start thinking about grating cheese...
or feeding my cats turkey steaks...
i take great precision cutting the steaks
delicately as if i'm preparing sushi...

i like the texture of raw, dead, meat under my fingers
in a way that compensates itself with the
touch of living meat under my fingers
after i scrubbed my fingers against a brick or
two... when touching a *******'s body
i need rough finger-tips...

but i won't be buying into this western libido "insomnia"
any time soon...
*** in real life is or never will be what the pornographic
industry prescribes or... well... back in the 1970s...
the Italian movies had tender loving care...
these days... it's ******* sadistic... all that ****
and all that one woman "vs." five men power action
*******...

if i am healthy *** with prostitutes...
that tells you a lot about the supposed "healthy"
people having "healthy" *** with other "healthy" people...
clearly unhealthy...
sure, i too have my kinks... but i don't enact
them... that's why they're kinks...
they're part of the cognitive circus that will never be seen!

well... apart from the one renegade clown...
you'll always see a clown from that circus...
i don't know why i decided to write about ***...
over-saturation is my best guess...
talk of *** in the most wrong sort of way...
that must have been the clue...
annexed ******* of disused men's capacity
coupled with a woman's over-stipend over
excusing herself in "too much action"...
whichever the case is...

the world has passed me by,
or rather: i passed the world by...
and turned around and said:
clearly no, i don't feel like it...
even for all the riches you have on offer...
i don't, feel like, it!
the richer a man becomes
the more obligation he has to his status
and the woman he, most assuredly has
to take for company!
me? i have zero to no obligations / dedications
for status and a woman of status...
i like women like i old leather:
they always tastes better if they have been
with plenty of men and i know that to be true...
****, lips, arm-pints and all that's thighs!
**** too...

             i'm not a jealous man...
i wish i could be a jealous god... but i'm not jealous
at all... that's my weakness...
i believe in love: universal...
hell... if women think it's worth sharing their beauty
and majesty.. why refrain from the argument
they're making... after all...
whether pretty or ugly: all can admire the sun
come either sunrise or sunset...

if that's how it's supposed to be...
   so it is to be...
she tells me my name is not Matteo: you can't be
a Matteo... i tell her in a groveling voice:
CON-RAD...
finally she understands me.

Today is the motif.
ideas daydreaming du corpse,
Superior attaining interpretation,
to my silly comprendo.
Twirling.

Make no mistake,
in this place, here,
we trace lakes.
Lying down; face-to-face,
when the mask breaks.

Make no claims.
In this; have no stakes.
in this.. Love's misfortune,
unfurl my bed, close my eyes,
&& rest my head,
in gold flake.
Suspended.

Our mother, she is kind.
Knows just what she does.
My home is not this hell;
nor s p a c e above.

Alight anew for ceremony,
&& i'll be the last to leave.
obligate engagement.
my place. In-between.

Some say it's a made up holiday,
that it's a made up way,
to cash out,
and a pay day for the corporations,
but don't let there alterations,
take away from any meaning,
that you aren't seeing.
It's a day of love and romance,
that you should spend with those you want,
and only give if you feel the need.
Don't close yourself to something wonderful like friendship,
just because some people want to try to manipulate,
and get you to fake,
a smile and a nod,
to those who'd try to obligate,
you to anything you don't want to.
You just need to feel the love in your heart and soul,
let it grow to something special,
and when you let others know,
just what they mean to you,
you'll realize the meaning of the day.
Just know you are loved and wonderful for just being you,
and after you've heard this little chime,
I hope you find yours and have a wonderful Valentine.

Pleasant catchwords offer.
Religious assertions affirm.
Occasional shouts whisper.
Moral assertions assert.
Idealistic illusions express joy.
Social obligations obligate.
Extraordinary assertions affirm.
Subtle compromises imperil.

I woke up early in the morrow
Due to clamor in my head.
I was distressed, gooey and restless,
It was the illation of what she said.

She said that she couldn't be with me,
The reasons were painful and dolorous to me
Burning in the flame of the anguish and parting.
Obligate enough was me, as she departing.

O lord ! How should I tell her, my sufferings?
She has been my passion, soul and other things.
You form match, It is saith,
So make her in my faith.

Else show me the way, how to forget her?
But think about me also, doest it better?
If this err you did, I won't spare myself,
If I manage some how, but what will happen to my elf?

This is obviously a challenge poem.
I hope to obtain a prize.
It’ll be an obligato tome,
A bit oblong in size

I won’t object if you become
Obdurate in your view
Of my obsequious pandering,
Introducing words brand new.

I must admit that I obsess
On words that start o-b
Considering them obnoxious
And obscure as they can be,

But looking at the obverse side
I do not want to obligate
Your absolute attention
To my somewhat obstinate
Desire for intervention.

They tell me I’m obstreperous
But they are all obese.
Their aim is to obtain my skill
And obligate release.

But I am not oblivious,
I’m observant of their ploys
So I’ll oppose this silly game
And not join with their toys.
           ljm

was this here when I was born?
- is this the earth of 1948?

No, I don't think so, this is the realm of words
as thought in times of enfolding
olden forms to find the lies
they passed on as fair
to hold sacred, hidden in depths, radical
depths of debt due to double-minded
upright bi-pedal instability

balance, yeah, surf, as a porpoise,
ride the wave as a photon in a medium
bearing

divine grace or some other unreasonable
idea - as a passenger here we be
come and see I am this photon,
for it is far too small for me
to stand up on and see,
so I am this bit of light, the same bit
involved in Einstein's little think, so long ago,
speed of thought,
you caught up.

How so?
I don't know, but I've been told,
these winds of mere light
return to pick up points
for
passengers intending to convert,

to bubblers of *******' and moanin' 'bout
balance in life, slinking in the shadow,
of the inpenetralium,
mercurial bubble of ancient Phrygian
ways to obligate a fringe
into an intentional point of contact
for any who know the feeling,

virtue flowed from me,
who touched me?
Gnat straining, am I? Have you never been
the fly on a wall you imagined?

Have you, honestly, never seen the earth
from the moon?

Now, ask any truth you wish were proven,
"what lie is held as you, in me?
What lies are needed for truth to be known,
and the knowers made free? Truth tell,
do I know, or say I know, to pass the tests,
to be allowed to live alone and far away,
thinking why do men, wombed and un, lie?

- Liars prosper.
- Reality holds the story true, so
- the first twisted gift of knowing was
- the trick.
- Beguilement, surprise, peek-a-boo
yahaha
weknow weknow weknow
I know,
each says, knowing we know, I am one of us,
alone aware you're there,
in the same story, from the same time,
measured in celestial predictate-ability,
to say where that star shall rise,

think what that knowing does.

Then to now in this bit of thought,
perhaps a pixel of truth.
Free, what's it worth.

Take a little think.

I  would be lying  if I said I don't regret not fighting for you

          I would lying if I said  I didn't  have  a little bit of resentment for choosing your friend  to have the love that was reserved for you  

When I was with you, I  understood what it meant to to put your heart into the air and risk it being shot down

Didn't what I  had to share worth fighting for

Why did you have to be the selfless one
You put her first and I admired that about you

But couldn't you see you put me second  

It was like being sampled out of a Dark Twisted Fantasy  

You ran away from fighting for a  chance to be  with me

All the times we spent talking seemed like Autumn  leaves blown away with wind

How come I felt cold like its the beginning of July  but the snow lost its magic

       I blamed myself for not fighting hard enough

        I was not happy with  your choice but I felt I  had no right to obligate

Didn't you consider my feelings  

       I lost something I had wanted so bad ,  and that was a chance to belong

How could you make belong  to you and disown like I wasn't much  

You
The one I felt tried to meet halfway  

With a smile that uplifted the joy I had inside me

You were a rainbow and me little kid who just wanted to live near it

But I sank like the titanic when I found out you took him back

      I saw my future with you  
       I should've got new lenses cause I didn't see this swip and swap going well

          I froze like Leonardo DICaprio  giving up his life to save Kate on a raft

The love drifted away

          I had to let go cause it seemed like that's what you wanted

And your happiness was what  gave me life

Your happiness was the Sun and I was a sunflower

The iceberg broke , while my  heart froze

      I had expected it to break but it froze and sunk into black hole where it refused to feel

But it burnt with agony cause                           I couldn't take how he  treated you

         I felt like I  lost you not fearing to break bones wanted the wall to feel my pain

And I heard about your birthday invitation for a second my heart jumped for joy but than the  brain warned my heart that the sight of her in another's arms will eventually lead to brawl

    I  wanted to see you but not with someone else

     I couldn't bare to lose to someone who wanted you for the time being

      I  wanted you for all eternity




     I guess I'm grown now  
     I always went in the fields and hunted for love

Now I learned that sometimes you have to let love find you in the field
           So I sit and wait
     I wanted to say thank you for  giving  your time

For making me belong
        I don't regret anything about those moments

Even if it was a  long time

Individuality is an innate personality
Physical attribute is a hereditary quality
Yet our attitude is a developing feature
It becomes systemic when being nurture.

Life is not perfect as we are only human
Diverse factors challenge the honor of man
Morality is a test to achieve the level of civility
Not easy to project it if self-conviction is faulty.

Committing a mistake is the nature of humankind
As man is lured to various worldly desires to unwind
The obligate blunder signifies weakness of character
Of the individual and never sort of a universal matter.

In the family, talents and physical attributes are inherited
But the attitude of a person can only be influence not ******
Environmental factors in and out become an acquired interest
Such that the mistake of one shall not become the fault of the rest.

Two souls meandered down the path
Both whole
Without another half
But together they did band
Not obligate
But to lend a hand
Words and thoughts between them flowed
While wary, he caught himself to goad
And she, a freely flying nymph
Who wholly he could but catch a glimpse
Though miles apart, they shared the path
And communed as though both telepaths
He struggled to undo traps he'd made
In beds of others where he'd laid
For to catch this nymph would destroy the beauty
And although he respected this, his duty
He could not help
As he reclined
To think of the two of them entwined
Untangled, and connected by choice
But he found no such desire in her voice
And when he'd rest she would return
With images and lessons learned
And so he let the dreams be read
Satisfied by visions in his head
And so amused by what transpired
She would so gently stoke the fire
With delicate appreciative care
So lightly hung upon the air
A dancing smoke
A dreamed affair
And so still floated in the air
Two souls both whole
Not half a pair