Hey!
She looks good.
Well, I guess.
If you say.

I just don't know.
Because I've got a woman that I love deeply.
We constantly hear.
You can look and not touched.
As a debated defense scheme.

But in truth.
You're showing the one you love disrespect.
Especially , when you breaking your neck to see.

And when caught.
You're offering all soughts of apologies.
Stay focus upon your true love.
And I bet you end up cherishing her.

Anything easy.
Is not a sign of strength.
Because to comprehend love.
Means, you're willing to see only  her in your eyes.
The one that unselfishly gives you her  love.

In truth.
Just recognize her.
She the picture of what love should be

"This is a story of boy meets girl, but you should know upfront, this is not a love story."

It all started with those little things,
with miniscule meanings,
exchanging trivial thoughts,
interests caught in hapless soughts.

It all started with those little things,
but now then heavier meanings,
exchanges became personal,
growing feelings like an irrational.

I didn't wish to end those little things,
but now then just past kindlings,
messages left unanswered,
with sentients left untold.

Like a bubble it was,
floating aimlessly,
carefree,
it can be pricked,
or just pop.

*It is not a love story.

Initially
        he thought to
        bring sight to the Blind
                       Desiring OsIris or
                       Evoke E(see)kiel
        
        But he looked in a mirror
               and couldn't see
                                      his self
         His mirror
         betrayed him
         transparent, anti-Narcissus
         he was

         Now
         he feels he has
         too              much
                    V  i  s  i  o  N
                                            his (soughts) self(s)
                     go in one             (thoughts)
                        eye and             (oughts)
                               out
                               the other
he, So Self-Aware, scares his mirror
                               wHEre
                               Who
                              (did) you see            then
                               Do                             now
                                                                 becoming
                                                                 tomorrow . . . ?

The strings of
"That's bad"
Play in my head
Play in my head
A webbing, a netting
a wobbling warbling
wrought stringery
would be ringery of
shoulds and oughts
soughts and naughts
expensively bought
making ******
thoughts

Baby is lifeless baby is used out of her control. baby’s mind is drenched in spirits, baby’s whole soul is intoxicated out of her power. Baby can’t feel a thing.
Baby likes attention, baby likes eyeliner to morph into her god.
Baby likes to party; so baby can conceal weaknesses that she can’t attend to. Baby has lost what’s inside. Because baby is tiered, and baby hasn’t anyone by her side to tame her. baby likes to see how far she can pull away from care until she is lost. Until she is crumbled by the side of the road thrown out by the cab under city lights which shelter baby’s innocence. Innocence she longs to annihilate to prove her strength, independence perhaps.
Baby can’t feel; baby has her tears inhaled by spirits before she can let them treacle down her skin. Damaged tissue, layers of fatigue from stranger’s touch. Baby thinks she is a toy baby lets herself to be played with because she plays with those toys in reverse. She mirrors those she fears and hates the morning after.
But baby is grown. And, baby can live to forget and baby erases the regrets in her ego and her laughter. Baby thinks its okay and baby says it’s fun, but this baby is lacking nurture, milk. Gilded milk of age. Baby grew up lost, baby grew up a clown. These nights, these repetitive nights are countless revenge upon that foetus she hates. Foetus was a clown foetus had no power foetus was a peasant to beauty. Baby is a slave to beauty now, baby loses time for beauty. baby just needs validation.
Evil begins to spawn within her in the disguise of self-defence, as baby grew, she wanted to hurt, her ability to hurt was her weapon of retaliation to all those who rejected her. They become her victims in a new life, played by people in the night. Those she attacks, she pains by absence, ignorance. Baby simply wants to reverse roles baby just wants the power. Baby likes to think she needs no other soul in this world, her ego convinces her that alone is a soul mate itself and that peace can only be found within. Maybe love awaits her in another life. So baby inflicts pain instead.
Being alone, baby self-sabotages in an act where she is most social, as her liver suffers from poisons and she smiles through her teeth knowing her head might shatter within in any moment. Baby pretends its fun and baby soughts to find fun in a new body to conclude her self sabotage. When they touch her in the wrong places during the acts of the night baby hurts inside. but baby pretends for a moment that this lust is love as she abides to her plan. Her plan is a success when she questions herself in regrets the next morning. Regret is forbidden so baby laughs instead. I call it a romanticization of a lack of self worth.  Actually no I’m just intoxicated.
Mother observes from above and mother scolds’ baby, lectures her to swear to never put herself through it again because her baby is so golden. But baby always flees from her mother and baby hides it all from her mother. Mother knows best but baby can’t understand. Because how many times did mother say that this cycle won’t erase loneliness that this wont compare to the love her baby deserves. And how many times did mother give baby false expectations because baby still goes to sleep in a cold bed every night.
Baby stops for a moment as she writes to search for the full moon. It disappears. Was baby dreaming did baby just want a full moon to liger upon her for dramatization?

                                                                                 -
It hurts her to say but baby is gnawing inside to find a cure for the lack she feels. Although ego holds strong above the water, seeking to drown people to reach land, but under ego she bleeds she lost her compass under waters. Love and lust pull her feet under water, creatures of desire bite and ceases her float. Baby drowns in this ocean of lusting.

                                                                      -
Baby is me in the night, baby is my alcoholism and baby is my ego my weakness my ongoing search for validation or love. Mother is my soul mother knows this is a vicious cycle but baby escapes home and escapes from mother.