My heart is troubled,
more often now than ever before.

Complications of what I see,
as a one way street.
It is a continuous road that never stops.

It's not a give and take,
requiring me to sacrifice more
and more each time.

I don;t even benefit from it.
I don't expect to.
But a little appreciation or
thought would be nice.

I feel like I do this out
of the goodness of myself,
but there is little returned,
if anything at all.

Again, I wouldn't do it
for the sake of something in return.
It just ***** when there is no
reply or reciprocation of what
I have done for them, ever.

No thought or inclination,
not a moment of time,
no mention or even notion
of my existence.

I grow tired of these complications of
no reciprocation.

Luminescent sacrifism
concocting inside
this bountiful prism.
Succumb to division,
reciprocations to decisions
unholy in thought
occupying this prison.
Unknown-
the only variable that's given.
Uncover the conspiracies
in this tank that you live in.
Revealing whats hidden,
believe and be smitten.
Luminescent little prism,
dreaming this dream
of a bountiful
sacrifism.

The constant ticking,
Seems to feed off the same pace as my heart.
Nevermore as my heart stops, time will go on.
Walk the halls, ending in doom.

Reciprocations,
Consequences, ultimate.
I've done my time here,
Now it's time to pay my last due.

Still ticking away my time,
In seconds and minutes.
It keeps going,
No chance at pause.

But will time seem slower?
Will it cease when I do?
Will it keep on speeding,
Or slow down in my absence?

That ticking,
What have I done to hear it?
Will my hourglass turn back over,
Or will it stay on that table?

The time has come,
I can't hear the ticking.
The walk seems longer now,
My life has become this hallway.

Time has slowed to a stop,
The ticking is no more.
But in my omittance,
Father time shall return again.

And when you see where I was,
it'll hit you hard
That the air is more than just particles
And the touches leave you scarred.
It is more than just consciousness, tangible explanations
The theory is already there,
Without any reciprocations.
The jokes hung on the bough,
Long before you met his gaze
And love sat patiently waiting,
While you wrote of the haze.
I follow love like an eager puppy
And you chase her away.
But she sits persistently in the lobby
And won't be led astray.
Love is all lashes and pink lips
And you are the ocean - waves, foam and dips.
So your tide tires her
And her lipstick leaks
And next thing you know
Pink from your water peaks.
Overthinking can be violent
And draws destruction near
So let's give in to attraction,
Let energy control the gear.

Passion eeks out, you lose the steering wheel
And love doesn't drown, her gills are
******* real

Your words, weighted with authentic affections,
used to send my heart ablaze.
Now they resonate as sweet old lies,
which wring my heart out to dry.

My love wasn't enough for you;
Like your faulty reciprocations,
the ink will melt then vanish into nothing.
Oh, how this smoke will send me into a new high!


We'll go out the same way we went in:
A crisp spark that ignites and engulfs ever so swiftly.

Not everyone can see the flame behind the raging mist,
for she has ornamented with gold her mighty fist;

This world has failed to judge the shimmer of those innocent eyes,
for behind those sleepless tears she has arduous dreams yet to arise;

Mistaking her compassion and soft emotions,
many self-made critiques have made faulty notions;

For the most competent may still harbor humility of heart,
& she carries such talents as gifts from the ultimate Mozart;

Time is not far when her chirping would outrun the worldly roars,
for the lordships have heard her forgotten prayers from far shores;

Her inner Faith in almighty’s mercy can move mountains,
& that’s the only currency in his market to open nectar’s fountains;

The proposal of friendship has been sent to her from lord’s side,
& he is awaiting her reciprocations by pursuit of his will to get abide;

For after enlightening her path he expects her to initiate the walk,
& soon his mercy would supply this cuckoo, the wings of a Hawk;

Her grand flight may know no boundaries and walls,
for the divine sky will nurture her endeavors and praise her calls;

We too wanna see her laughter again pouring like a sacred wine,
for its time to drop the curtains and unveil this Covered Sunshine…