The doubts of tomorrow my flow's been borrowed
.
I never solicited for your POWER.
.
All I did was study the crowded,
.
wondered how they spent their hours
.
for my time is here
.
worries to sear
.
 I cut the cloth it sounds soothing to your ear.
.
You never met me but I helped you appear
.
.
Afraid to get laid
.
or 
.
 obsess with getting paid?
.
.
.
Shatter the jade
.
remove all the fables and plays
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

These sonnets.
.
.
.
.
Harmonic

.
.
Semiotics
.
I know the how to study objects.
.
.
.

.
.

Old ways forgotten.
.
.
New ways to solve it.
.
.
.
For money itself was the excuse of the chicken hearted.

the burnt orange couch reminds of late nights past

the scattered papers and the whirring of my brain trying to think through you

and lost i have been in your words and numbers

from this peril tears unheard

and i gaze into your depths have you yet but one regret

for the torture that you give the sleepless night that i have had

the sacrificial lamb i have become on your behalf

and to this beauty of deep burgandy a wish for it to cease to be

your wisdoms i might need much later but i would rather avoid them at all cost

yet you persuade me that they need not to be lost

and as tommorrows time will pass these 7 parts of you will fade

my mind will not remember or care to think of you again

but nuisance as you might be a weeks worth time and you will beg at me

for my memory for my care - this is no love affair

i will never love you so you are a book

and I …. no.

and while you contain what i must know i will never worship your insides

no rhyme will do you justice to show my dislike for you

chemistry this love will never be true.

it's a dan fogleberg sort
of day....
smooth and full of wist
as we do mundane things

full of odd jobs and kisses
in quiet moments
dusting off of yesterdays
and longings for tommorrows
fingers to fingers
and smiles promising
more....
sunshine through gentle rain
falling in love once more again
yeah it is definitely a
dan fogleberg sort of day....

If i could make a poem
of this day.
It would be quiet
still and contemplative.

It would talk of
calm acceptance,
of things unchangeble.

It would mention colours,
grey, green and snippets of blue.

It would allude to the
opinion,
that sometimes, we just
have to wait,
until the skies clear
and then tommorrows path
lies set out before us.

It would whisper of hope,
faith and walking unsighted, blindfolded, through our lives.

It would sigh and politely
state, that time is fleeting
and we must begin,
to take care
of precious moments.

It would silently wrap me
up in warmth and love
and kiss my lips in adoration.

I find i don't need to make
a poem of this day.

For that i have you
my love.

I could use a friend who would catch a bullet for me,
I could use a parent that wouldn't abandon me,
I could use all these things while I'm digging this grave,
They say they would **** me for the words I say,
But there's no way,
That I'm still alive after all this pain,
All these sorrows,
No bright tommorrows,
Would you miss me when I'm gone?
Would you cry for me with those beautiful eyes?
Would you tell me that you loved me all this time,
After I can't hear a thing?
After I die?