The love pretty please
wait for my
Cherry baby on top
Not some love O-Oreo
I could scream beguiled
Both twirled in swirls
Bavarian cream

Love has torn at the seams
Bad dream hot hit
bounty hunter
Bunny ears of the hop heart
it skips divine lips like a light tower
No other apology cries the thunder

And wait a **** minute
O-Oh-Yes where's my tip

I am not your second
fiddle of stunts
The romance of philosophy

We can fly higher
than anyone
will ever be

The Outgaze O hearts
of symmetry
Being told about their love
or other peoples fun
Twilight apology Wolfin tie outrun

Love O Apology light my pleasure
O on Overdrive no time for the
S letter-word SOS seizure
How many love gestures
of psychology

Love word *O love
to Outlive
your treasure
Being psyched for physiology
Feeling mighty good right now
Don't blow bubbles like their
stars* of trouble

A few in the A-New heart stays
ever so blue few Good Men
Perfect Zen thumbs up
His or hers how cute
the words up
The Buddha says
Love is a
spiritual existence

The herbs body rubs
Going to the Hubs
Behind all your apologies
Wearing the new Doctor scrubs
Love house of Labs resistance

The morning glory September
rise and stretch your
overworked wings
Believing never comparing
to another love
It's your love

Or very O for outstanding at the utmost
So incredible the feeling
       Loveology
There's absolutely no apology
The love surrender lion and tigers
So bearable

Her turn like a Turnup
Up close nose smells the rose
Picking love out pulling
the weeds
Her red  embarrassed face
of the radishes
The Shy bush compared
to the O outgoing love
A hint of red delicious apple
Buzzing around the
Mulberry Bush_
Big Ben London
O Sweet Lord of magic singing
*Rosebush* fresh lemons
George Bush Patriotic
Chilean Sea Maiden Bass
Love ******

VIP pass especially with love
Here it is his loves
A spinning wheel so dizzy
London foggy she is the
product of the  flower *****
Like a carnival cotton candy
What a head rush
Another apology and a big push
Those hummingbirds of sweet soul
But something ambushed
She got a lump of his
crab meat cheek crush

Getting over someone never to see them

*Picking out all the petals of the rose when she was with him*

How many apologies open heart surgeries
Apology on hold like a new series
*Wake up "O" my muffin*
Cheers to the world of Oats
Fingerpicking Cheerios
*Don't give in  get to know him

Giving/InWay*

New love *Caved In*
His way per click day
High payments to pay off

BMW Billionaire Man wilted
Love head Beamer
Be_ My__ World the dreamer

That love pain injury, going faster
Strong love never to lose her
Like cancer Santas Deers love prancer

Fine tooth comb
Negative force to succumb

Capitulate
Artsy wings to meditate
She is destined for something
So articulate
Can this be a painful love of fate?
She succumbs to the time given in
To her O Lord temptation
Words stand alone planet of people
Hearing the real voice no recording
From here to eternity the blasted phone

The Love O not to outwit just sit
And lift your gravity of love
Round earth or your flat on the ground or above
someone knows your true love

*She is combing her hair Silkience Queen of the Divination

The joy of Christmas morning
Among the gifts beneath the tree
Was one for all to cherish
there was so much there to see

Books and clothes and other things
gifts were piled to our knees
but the longest item under there
Was Uncle Mike's new ski's

Now Mike, was something special
and I think I have a hunch
That you might have read about him
And his famous Christmas Punch

Well, two days later here he was
Standing, looking at his ski's
He asked his wife, my Aunty Pat
"what the hell do I do with these"

"You need to get more exercise"
"Cross country skiing is quite hot"
He said "look at this round body"
"Athletic...it is not"

After a little conversation
Well, an arguement Mike lost
He agreed to go and try them
No matter what the cost

His brother Gerald joined us,
With my brother and our sled
We ventured out to T.V Golf Course
To exercise, like Aunt Pat said

Now, the golf course is an old one
Trees and water all around
But that was in the summer
Now, just snow was on the ground

For those out there among you
Unaware of what's involved
To learn cross country skiing
Is not so quickly solved

The first and most important
point when learning how to ski
Is, stay on ground that's level
And don't collide with trees

We stood atop the highest hill
With a gentle grade straight out
It was the most level spot out there
Of this there was no doubt

My brother went down on the sled
On a hill just to the right
He was flying like a rocket ship
And was quickly out of sight

Mike, all dressed and shackled in
Was trying hard just not to fall
He was 5 foot three in ski boots
And lying down, was just as tall

We said to try just walking
The hill would do the rest
Behind him we were laughing
Poor Mike, he tried his best

He swore a lot, and we all laughed
It was not something he liked
For, Mike, need to prepare for things
To find something, and get psyched

The view from atop the highest hill
Was something to be seen
From here, you'd see the river
And, to the left the seventh green

After two hours out we decided that
We should be off and then
Mike said "I'll give it one more run"
"I'll try it once again"

Gerald, Ian and myself
had packed up, were set to go
When Mike came sliding past us
Moving quickly on the snow

In front of him, a little bump
Turned him slightly to the right
Toward the hill of sledders
This gave Uncle Mike a fright

"fall down" we yelled, as he went by
He just waved and made the turn
He hit the hill at his top speed
He hit two bushes and a fern

The hill, all 14 stories
Was more ice than it was snow
And there was Mike, at full speed
Dodging sledders on the go

We heard him scream as he went down
But what we heard, was only half
Because the sight of him free wheeling
Was making us all laugh

He shot on up the other side
Stopped and then came back
But because the hill was made of ice
He hadn't left a track

Once he stopped we ran on to him
We stood there, a laughing group of men
And Mike, all five foot three of him
said "I'll not do that again"

The skis, were gouged and splintered
The wax was off, as was the tar
He grabbed one under both his arms
And we trudged off to the car

Aunt Pat was there to greet us
When Mike, pulled out the skis
He showed her, gouged and scratched and ruined
And said "I'll not be needing these"

That Christmas is my favourite
We still smile at Christmas lunch
Of Uncle Mike's speed skiing
And of course his Christmas punch.

She was a friend of Amber Clark
You know, you've met her before
She's the girl who listens secretly
To Bach behind the door
The Closet Classic ******
Who wears shirts of the Ramones
But listens to Rachmaninov
whenever she's alone

Jennifer McSweeney
known by all upon the street
She had kind words for everyone
She liked everyone she'd meet
She ate meals at Giannis
Knew the Pawnbroker, Old Cy
She listened to the bluesman
Whenever she came by

Like all the folks upon the street
Jennifer was dark
Not gothic, but you could say grey
She was set to make her mark
She was going to be famous
Her face upon the Silver Screen
She was going to be a movie star
Like The Truck Stop Beauty Queen

Jennifer loved movies
Not the ones that can be found
At the local dvd store
She liked the movies without sound
Her little quirk was that she
Liked the movies from the start
They told tales in black and white
These were strong in Jenni's heart

Buster Keaton, Harold Lloyd
Fatty Arbuckle, and more
Zasu Pitts, Charlie Chase
They struck her to her core
L and H, The Keystone Kops
She loved to see them grapplin'
But none of these compared to her
deep love for Charlie Chaplin

The Cineplex would show a film
They would host a special week
When silent movies were the shows
When nobody did speak
Jennifer would take the time
To watch each film they showed
She was so happy when the week came round
She positively glowed

The kids she knew, all thought her odd
Because of what she liked
But, when the silent week was here
Jennifer was psyched
One year she went to the next town
To get a small tattoo
It was all done up in black and grey
It was what she had to do

Like other girls who have been inked
It was in the same place
But, it was little, very non descript
Of her favorite actors face
She told few friends about it
And though she never did get violent
If you laughed at her tattoo
Like Chaplin, she'd be silent

She kept it to herself most times
Her little bit of ink
As she aged she'd show it more
For the cost of just one drink
She would take them to her bedroom
And by the light of her small lamp
She would show her tattoo proudly
Chaplin....her little ***** stamp

It's the thing that she is known for
She's the girls with Charlie's face
Where others all have Chinese Words
She has Chaplin in this place
She is known for loving movies
In black and white, and though it's camp
She gives a whole new meaning to
Having a ***** stamp.

What would it take
to hold grasp,
Swallow thy pride.

Winter passed
cold breeze,
open wide.

Psyched thoughts,
taken for granted,
thrown beside.

Tell stories,
never black,
nor white

What would,
you give,
my friend.

All we are,
pleasure
seeking,

All we are,
sight
seeing

All we are.
needs,
caring

All we are,
never
ending.

He's different, I think
When I sat down firstly
I barely gave a blink
So did he, none did speak


But then he asked me
"Is that x over y?"
And he smiled so gently
So heavenly, it warmed me

I said, "Yes, yes it is,"
And returned the smile
half-heartedly
In hopes he'd return one back

Everyday, I sat beside him
Everyday, I hoped I could to to him
Everyday, I psyched myself
Everyday, I believe fate would bring him to me

I think I started to fall a little harder
in my mind, so much thoughts to ponder
"What if we fell together,
or would he treat me like another brother?"

His friends are vastly... different
Egos blown, language ever so sharp
They'd play and frolic around
But he, no, he'd rather sit and look around

Unlike them, he liked to smile a lot
Unlike them, he'd give and opt not to take
Unlike them, he'd speak with his eyes filled of genuine interest
Unlike them, he'd make you feel... warm... understood... human

Time passed, I did nothing
I was ever content with small talk
We'd have hard time graphing parabolas
But when will love come around, my own graph?

The last day came, and all we ever did was write
He'd make jokes, and I would laugh
The hour passed, now time to say goodbye
"Dart sa heart", he utters, leaving me to ponder

Time for judgment day came
I utter my wish for luck to him, him to me
A grueling hour or two ran by so fast
I sighed, was relieved, was done, but could not afford a glance.

"3 minutes left!", the professor says
I nodded sassily
He chuckles
He nods as well
I think
I ponder
I feel
"Did he even feel so differently about me?"

The day is done
He walked off first
I followed
But there was no goodbyes
and neither did close the door
so I was left open

"When would I ever see him again?"
But I'd like to meet
but the answer is never
maybe pain is part of this growing...

Twelve years old and I knew I was too much.

A body too much- a stomach that stretched and stuck
and a waist left red, dented, stinging after a day in jeans.

A brain too much- a thought process that took flight
without permission and dropped rogue missiles of ideas
in phone calls with great aunts, deep in essays
during state funded tests and leaked from brown paper bags
in middle school lunchrooms, leaving me silent and sticky and
only just fitting in.

Any conversation was secondary to
the fuzzy way I could feel
my mouth tripping hard to keep up with a dizzy brain
and even before a sentence finished
Feeling regret like warm honey coat my throat and
seep down hot and solid to my roaring gut.

I was a heart too much.
Tears ran forceful and free for
so long. There was the heavy,
lonely feeling that grabbed root at my pelvis
and lounged, languid for days- ******* any hope I could muster
out of tan hide until only leather shell remained.

Dawn would find me ushering in chilling spells of misery
triggered by the whole wide world-
a boy with a gun on the news,
a teacher’s tight forehead while mean kids flexed their puberty,
Or finding a picture of my parents before they were my parents,
and wondering if they ever actually knew love.

At twelve years old my soul was stretched out and sagging.
At twelve years old I held tight to being less
At twelve years old I knew only one way dull the aches sprouting
as fast and fresh as ivy inside my bones.

At twelve every birthday candle and eyelash,
every wishbone and 11:11
was devoted to smallness and simplicity
So certain that the less of me there was
the less I would have to bear from the world.

More than half my life I’ve spent in pursuit of sharp
bones to shield and a lithe tread to conceal.
I have itched to be a sole shrinking girl among
the growing and gaining of peers-
to finally find quiet in a body that
was beginning to ripen in a shrill,
panicky way that would just not do.


More than decade I’ve spent with bile on my breath
and scrappy knuckles desperately begging
the arrangement of meat and bone I live in
to contract; to fold back in on itself and strengthen
into a place where I could catch my breath and
learn to tend.

Now, too many seasons and too many
mistakes later- I do wake up in
a smaller body. Twelve year old me is
beaming as she sneaks glances the XSs
stitched in labels and the chorus of likes that
coo and comment how darling I look in dresses.

Twelve year old me is quietly,
solemnly psyched about the bruises that bloom across
my paling curves after a good stretch on ground.
She even nods her head gleefully
to my swaying pulse as it dances to its own, faraway music.

Twelve year old me could care less about the bone-buried knots
entombed along my spine and the putty-snap cracking
bones I show off like party tricks.
She sees the yolky shimmer of eyeballs and trail of hairs I shed
like bread crumbs marking my path and she doesn’t bat an eyelash.
She’s glad she managed it-
and anyway the price is worth the discomfort,
health in youth is mostly over-rated.

But I do wonder what greedy, vicious
twelve year old me would think if she knew
I am still, secretly, too much.

Could she muster any pride as she feels
my heavy, fatigued heart expand to fill the bits
and dark corner secrets I starved away?
Or any pity as she watches empty-word fog crawl
between ribs and bellow out like a pirate’s flag under raised hipbones.
She meets the murky mass that fills my frame- heavy and suspended
like a dark towering cumulous
waiting for the bow to break and the storm to fall.

Maybe she’d find my brain chemistry unnerving.
Seeing desperate fists pawing at ideas as they are born and implode
and holding numbly to loose bits, reeling them in stunted fervor like kite strings.
Thunder cracks and I’m not nearly electric.

So I grip tight;  sinking decalcified teeth
into the catch of the day, rowing a rusty canoe out of the
whirling, mirrored lake of my mind and back to shore.
I will attempt to fit my
hard won ideas into any and all variables.
I will drive myself crazy with inspiration
but never create a **** thing.

The thoughts coursing through my almost-there body are
flexed horses. They gallop around
the same dirt track for days on end and I have bet
what’s left of my youth on photo-finish losses.
I’ve got nothing to show for who I am these days.
Except for the dresses.
I look good in the dresses.

I'd watched the many videos,
of humanity gone absurd.
I watch with such disdain,
such hatred for them *******.
Have they got stone cold hearts,
or nothing at all pounding within?
Were they brought up by the hands of the devil,
or were they psyched by some evil doctrine?
Who permitted them rights to rob lives
of these helpless little animals?
Who granted them consent for their relentless pursuit of quality,
and feast like a hannibal?
Such cowardly acts to prey on helpless little creatures,
yet with that much pride, they boast of their prized possessions.
Only when the tables turn,
will they seek for redemption.
And still humanity runs,
in the direction of absurdity.
The human race continues,
to rest in such cruelty.

You are the Chicken on My Briyani,
The Cheese to my Macaroni,
Oh, you make me so happy,
You're everything that I see

I'd love to know what you smell like,
where you always parked your bike,
When we met, I was psyched,
You are always on my mind

We ran from the tears.
But the strength of our cries inside our nightmares became something deceiving.
You heard it in the other room, when I was dreaming.

Blind and convinced that waves of illusions would flash me by, I psyched myself out.
I traveled outside in different electrons and what not.
Asleep and floating on the music note of my heartbeat's base.

Some kind of radiance appeared in the back of my head, like it did after every story.
Happily ever after you said once or twice before.

I imagined things nicer because you lied to me.
But that was love, or some kind of protection.
Shadows and presents cover up the technicalities
The footprints on the ground had painted colors into our adventures with owls and dragons...

It was the two of us lost in our tales in dreamland.
The stream of make believe we created glued the words to the page, and I followed my instinct.
I knew where to find you.
It was cold. But we were too far ahead to call it off now.
Closing our eyes to escape form the monsters of reality became habitual and
The white picket fence separates our two worlds from colliding.
Like the words do, that describe peace and war.

Hiding in treasure chest are the skeletons of what we wanted to be when we grew up.
That's just unrealistic anymore.

Failed promises mourned with soft moans and muffled cries
Words that once creased my face with smiles, now turned lies
Broken spirit have made my body go numb and unfeeling like ice
And I'm left with an ache so enormous in size!  
You don't have to read and click the button 'like'
I just wanna pour out my heart and not get psyched
See if I could like a pond build around my heart a solid ****
If it would ever make me secured, tsk!
But really, is it normal for me to feel this depressed?
Those who's lost it a long time ago think I'm blessed!
Maybe I am, on the brighter side but then what's with this foul mood?
That has made me non-chalant and rude!
I don't like this transformation that has made me sobersided
Not like I wanna lallygag but I'll just love to be free-minded
Not to feel this emptiness that is frustrating me
Just wanna be at peace with everyone and still be who God wants me to be

tears rolled down her pale porcelain cheeks, her lower lip trembled as she stared at the crumpled piece of paper in her hand. her heart felt like it was about to puncture a hole through her ribs, damaging her thin frame which was already bruised and battered. the bruises were her decoration, not something she hid, not something that came from abuse, but rather from love.

a scream shattered across the room, breaking the peaceful silence, unnoticeable to the city around her, but a sharp cut through the apartment’s normally tranquil state.

she sobbed and pulled at the skin around her hands, clawing at it with her painted peach-coloured nails, trying to convince herself that this is not the reality she was in, not the reality that deserved her.

the bed shifted and she stood up, cradling herself quietly as she walked over to the dresser.
a circular vintage-looking powder case was lifted from the drawer, shining a golden hue, seeming like a prized treasure to the young woman.

white lines are formed along the black mahogany dresser, creating a perfect contrast between light and dark.
this was what she wanted. what she needed. this is what made her smile.

when he wasn’t there,
she’d click her tongue,
seek warmth in her sheets,
wander around their home,
play with his favourite camera,
cry at the thought of him being angry,

panicking, breathing heavy, heart-racing and full of angst.

no, snow didn’t make her happy.
her sunshine did.

-

she woke up the next morning, her vision slightly blurring from burying herself face-first into the sea of cushions and blankets spread all over their bed.

“angel, you really need to stop turning to snow whenever you get lonely.”

something echoed from the bathroom next door. it’s a strong and masculine voice, reassuring her thoughts and snapping her back to reality. she smiled and grabbed a blanket, throwing it over her nimble frame as she walked towards the brightly-lit doorway.

“i’m sorry, miku.”

miku, the name she so adored. it rolled on her tongue like a sweet piece of jelly, soothing and rewarding. he loved her back just as much; whether it was her joyful smile whenever she accomplished something, her laughter when she failed, the determined glint in her eyes and most of all her sweet, almost-chaste kisses she gave him every single day.

“maria, i need your help.”

“with what?”

her voice curious, yet laced with slight worry.
their eyes met, his gaze softened. he turned and placed a hand on her cheek, stroking it thoughtfully.

“with a small job. something that would be fun to do together. i even got you a special present.” he gestured toward a small black case placed on the kitchen table. maria noticed that he had placed freshly bought roses in a vase on the table beside it as well.

the case revealed two bright-pink, shiny new Glocks, polished to perfection. maria let out an excited squeal before hugging mikula.

“come on now sweetie, we have to go.”

-

by the time they got back, it was already midnight. mikula wanted to sleep, tired from the night of blood and debauchery. maria on the other hand, was psyched up from the violence and excitement. she loved spending time with mikula as well as witnessing the art of his work.

the sight of the man squirming below mikula, trying to push the boot off which was crushing his chest, really excited maria. the way mikula scoffed at the man’s pleads for mercy, the way he scowled at the bargain for a higher lump sum of money in exchange for his target’s life. the way his pale grey eyes flashed with anger at the man for referring to her as a “sleezy ****** *****”.

“do i look like the kind of man that would be with a sleezy *****?”

the man didn’t answer, he could not muster the strength, let alone the courage to utter a single word.

“my sweet maria is not sleezy and she is definitely not a *****.” he pauses briefly, cocking the gun and pointing towards the man.

the man’s eyes widened in fear as mikula reached into his pocket and pulled out a pink switchblade, flicking it open and handing it to maria.

“i forgot to give you this little present, on top of those custom guns i ordered in.”

mikula watched her grin from ear to ear, studying the sharp object in her hand. it glistened in the dim light, making her heart thump with excitement. she heard music in her head as she kneeled down, the twisted smile growing wider and wider.

♫ babe you can see that I'm danger
glamorous but I'm deranged, yeah
teetering off of the stage, yeah
i said it really nicely so can you be my savior? ♫ *

a manical scream escaped her throat.
when she looked up and saw mikula smiling at her, it felt like the blood that had tainted her clothes was invisible ink.
her tongue glided across the surface of her lips, before spitting the mix of saliva and crimson onto the floor beside her.

♫ is it wro-wrong that I think it's kinda fun
when I hit you in the back of the head with a gun?
my daddy's in the trunk of his brand new truck
i really want him back, but I'm kinda outta luck. ♫

Let me tell you about this girl, who i know in my life
When she always came around, i would always be psyched!
But when it came down to it, i wasn’t her type
Was i there to languish? hmm, it was just a part of life.

In and out of the scrub, cold networking
Overcooked scenarios, elbowing one another
Out of line to rubber neck the continual
Replay that gets nowhere fast
Overplaying.....on and on, over and over
Push it to the far reaches, it's back
Needles stuck......hic hic hic, Remove it
Eeeeeeeeeek.......
Spinning on silent mode, scenarios upon
Scenario, double dose waiting to be heard
Too late to turn back, already done, dusted
The jelly set, the concrete dried and solid
Get out for one second....take a hike....it's back
After school...teacher dishing out lines
Repeating over and over what you dearly
Want to forget, imprinting, etching a deep
Rut; psyched up ready for battle; but there's
Nothing, noone there who wants to listen
They don't want to know, you or anything
About you....for that matter; Cuts deep
Threading back to childhood rejection
Of recent loss compounding, how little they
Care....knowing what you've been through
It cuts no ice, yet is jagged and raw through
Your flesh remaining.......hic..hic..hic..hic..hic..hic............

I see it in your eyes
The twinkle in my heart shines through them
I feel it in your soul
It is I you long to hold
If only chills could speak
You would know that your warmth makes me weak
In the very tone of every word
Every word you utter has weight
The syllables stretch as if you speak in melisma
The way you move
The way you blush and move about
Shy and psyched by the eccentric emotion running through you
You smile and make me a guy
How, how could I make a woman the apple of my eye
The apple of my eye shine so bright that it gives birth to a young tender tree
You hiss waves of bliss as the love chokes you and you can only be saved by a kiss
I hesitate and reminisce
Thinking about the days I did not give into your rules
Sharpened by the blades of poetry, I levitate thinking you will follow me
You stand and wonder how I could be such a fool
To let a lovely doll fall into the arms of a ******
The winds of time breathe rain
We both wait again, to see the day
The day our scattered seeds of love blossom into a flower
I will have you and our bright and blooming flower
And together at the tree we will be, no matter the feat, no matter the hour.

Life is a little mystery, no one can explain.
No matter how hard they try, it is all in vane.
'Cause there's always someone who wants to prove you wrong,
And they always believe, but not for long.
God didn't create this mystery for us to break,
For us to understand and for someone else to hate.
We were meant to believe,
Not as a scientist meant to achieve.
You're supposed to enjoy wondering what this might be like,
You're supposed to love not knowing, you're supposed to be psyched.
And if someone tries to force their thought,
Ask them if God wants this to be sought.
For life should be a mystery, not knowing what is now,
No one figuring out what's happening or how.

Lately I've been hard to reach, I've been too long on my own
Everybody has a private world where they can be alone
Are you calling me? Are you trying to get through?
Are you reaching out for me, like I'm reaching out for you?

I'm just so ******' depressed, I just can seem to get out this slump
If I could just get over this ****
But I need something to pull me out this dump,
I took my bruises, took my lumps
Fell down and I got right back up
But I need that spark to get psyched back up
In order for me to pick the mic back up
I don't know how or why or when I ended up in this position I'm in

I'm afraid of everything
So I'm barely living
Holding back so I don't get hurt
The worst part is not knowing what will happen next
I'm a freak out of control
So they call me control freak
Be ready for what's around the corner but I don't see through walls
So I'm armed with layers for anything
And little things freak me out
I'm psyched to be the leader
Cause I'm a ******
And I'll have a perfect path
I mean plan for us all...

I've written your name and thought of your spirit on mine.
Now I'm not here I'm not anywhere.
Just an absence of you that continues on.

Like sleeping doesn't feel just alone but endlessly wrong.
I pounded my chest, psyched myself to feel strong.
But it all just comes back...
All I end up with are tears on the screen.

Just these Liquid Crystal Tears.

We always know the right from wrong, though mind and heart sing separate songs.
Im deciding to cut the pain and conflict, walking away from my soft hearts district.
For its there in my mind, thats where I'l predict,
the future of my own destiny's beat.
People come and affect you, and in effect, infect you.
With their sorrows and joys, their hopes and their ploys;
and plots and their feelings.
Id rather avoid their meanial dealings.
Everyone is worth it, Im not dissing the public;
But in life if you want it, you gotta know whose worth it.
One mans food is anothers poison,
It works the same with regards to a person.
You can hate 'em or love 'em, but in some way you become them.
They can better you or break you, complete you or worsen,
the **** that you got going on already.
Theres only a few that will keep your head steady.
Those ones, i will keep and distractions must go.
Even the good kind coz those are the ones that i know,
will lift you up, get you psyched up and hyped up on life;
till the time comes. . . when you fall from that height.
Live, show love but never feel it ,too long.
Think, show wisdom but never teach it ,too long
Laugh, show happiness but never believe it, too long.
Cry, but show Nothing, dont bereave it too long.
The sun will shine and still, time will go on;
and no one but you will feel the feelings gone.
So you sulk and infect all those that surround you,
and you hunch and neglect You, your emotions will drown you.
When you reflect, what you'll find is a shell of what used to be.
So rip out those heart strings and be like me, Care Free.

amnesia occurs as often as god.  we speak as one to one who puts a value on value.  we assign an indirect loneliness to pregnancy and present ourselves to prison populations as a way to avoid hitting the pregnant.  like you, I become my own pillow when back in the school days of my tornado.  yes I place myself in a song and you place the song.  reading remains a new form of plagiarism.  I am super psyched about the babies.  I don’t want to mess up their traumatic bonding.  hypervigilance is a thing.  like you, I know I’m close to what I’m ghost of.

my mind still catches your silhouette
haunting around my brain core
causing trouble to nerve that speciffically went to a total damage
of sending "it's time to move" message
to my whole body

my heart had being turned off
after i've psyched myself
of full long term commitment
that best day of my life-since

my double black eyes still searching for you
in the crowd of blurry people,
in my favorite city (used-to)
that back of you vision still lingers
through every corner of the street

in the end, what i'm trying to say is
**don't close the door, please?

I would rather not have frowned at the frau
She was my friend
Slatternly, frowzy, bedgraddled gal
I always wondered how and why she liked me
Like a boy who could be psyched out by bosoms.
I wasn't
I felt it peasant like.
Like a tike feeling in the dirt for flukes and rakes
Rake, she said she thought what I was.
Which would mean I could make her heart buzz
and would mean we could be one another.
Another life left to lonesome fevers in panting fogs.
I matter, so does she.
Dark matter.
Slathered in holes, stolen goals.
God we were the same.
It's a shame we were the same.

Blinding light, deafening echoes,
Suffocating breath, a burning taste,
And a freezing breeze,
Into the unknown, swirling, infinite thoughts

Deluded, by love, and beauty,
Malicious smiles, tender words
Stabbed, hypocrite, arrogant,
Her fine robe, high soles

Luscious lips, her kiss of death,
Warm, and cold, dying
*******, his life force, an ending breath
A heart stolen, and now, freezing,

Buried, in hate, and yet,
Undead, looped in the past,
Faint ink, on a lover’s canvas,
Psyched, trapped, within, the wooden frames