connected with love
there lais the ****
and itchi

as a dard , a poisonous
and **** pain

love is a heartbreak,
pain is refreshing,

as an addicted to feel,
don't specting but pain

and spittings, then the suffering,
after all happens, they love me, back

after the hurt, i don't look back,
used to , feeling their
love,
after i'm trew

like an insomniac,
feeling the love
after the hurt

like a heartless man,
specting some brave femme,

that holds mi hand,
DURING,

not after is over,
AFTER THE SPITS
AND THE HATE,
y never look back.

c'est tout c'est tout.
but love is all over

after i clean my face
i can't feel it no more,

pride or wise,
who knows , who .

no regrets, im lucky ,
for trie to love,

maybe is not love , is
only passion, and pain,

like a ******, or a fool
who knows, could i love her
yes

should i love her
NO

respect and
compassion,
are essential,

should i no, could i,
maybe i can't, not being
is a curse, in some way

not being  was my cruce,
and can't use it as a crutch

and my curse sting like the bugs
for the creeps system,

like a cyborg, with a camera, in my eye,
and a phone, in my ear and my ***,

maybe cyborgs,
can't be loved , in
the right time, or
cowardness winns,and

is a rule, in the circles of
hate, some wankers are.

some peace and
privacy, would be cool

my life is like nutshell
the only one of y kind

no common points, all alone
nothing cost, all is easy,

love, even hate, physics,
and humanity, more human
than humans.

in the end, love
probes he's there,

watching, threw his strings,

should i could i


who knows, who knows
connected, and painful
is the road,

LOOKING SOMETHING
SWEET, AS STRAWBERRY
MARMALADE,
ON HER **** BODY

but is only pain
what's left, and the spits
on my face. should i

maybe, but i can't.
after all the pain,
and the smile, on
the creeps faces,

but connected is the pain,
with the trie to love,

but i can't love the spits
on my face.
could i, who knows who knows.

pride or wise, love o hate,
respect is essential,
in everything, love or hate.

respect is what's left, should
y  love the one who help that ****

pride or wise, who knows
respect is all is left.

respect is love,
pain is not, and know
is all what's left.

sweet and itchi
**** *** hell,
like the venom,

of the snake ,
is that old,
****, heart pain.

i love the way,
you put a smile on my face,
all the weird litle things
got me, thinking on the chance
of living again, or trying to thou,

the ways of looking back in secret,
the way you look like her, the lion owner,
the ligth of lights knows, someday i will
live, even if she owns my heart, some other will
accept that, and be with me, hopefully, and knowing
that my heart is not mine anymore.

that is my prerrogative anyway, a shared beast
a lover that will love you entyreli, and faithfully,
but knowing that in secret, he two, loves another
the same way he may love you, and that is it,
no catch or trap, no ******* crap, just an inpossible
story, that will remain for ever, secretly, respectfully.

silently and faithfully taken, a romantic beast, a lover
and a fool, a ****** killing beast, with love capacity
and a faithfull lover, adoring you, but knowing,
that he loves another, and for ever will,
if my heart can be shared, and i know it can,
she could be the other one, owning the lion's heart.

hopefully that other one understands,
there is storys that never end, last and last,
as looks in the distance, will never end,
and the distant lovers, will always be that,
distant and inloved, dispice the odds,
and dispice the distance, but that is all.

the heart is strange, and whimpsy, so
maybe i could love you, as i love her,
no buts, just that, i trie to forget, and trie to
not care or look back again, that don't work,
so crazy the litle secrets in the lion's heart.

dispice that, i will love again.
find someone, then, loving her,
she may know already, i could love her,
make her mine, **** his pups,
take her in heat, making her mi lioness.

a litle beasty girl, to love,knowing,
that the half of my heart can be hers.
the other half, is owned, and for ever
will be.

the shadow in the corner,
looks at me, whispers,
and whispers, at me ear,

looking for a way, to
become and merge with me.
as an insisting parasite,

as a shadow inside me,
but  futile, and vain,
i'm too egotic, to let him.

enjoying my years of pain,
as a heartless man,
but the whispers, share his
childish flashes, a futile pursuit.

to myself, to be merge,
with creeps, cowards,
and annoyingly vain.

the poets secret crown,  of
lovers in heaven, golden and
invisible, but made of pain.

cover my head, as a dead poet,
passing at this era, not blind or
vain, but true, and loving every girl.

even those i hate, the sexi hip bones.
the ego of a lion, never can be merge,
with a creep, pathetic and weak,
but he tries still.

wise by pain and deceit,
a lover in the prime, longing,
loving, watching, smelling them all.

with or without, gauche or droit.
tout le femme, e belle et magnifique,
comme le pleure de madeleine,
le sacre femme.

and this shadow, in me ear,
wants to be me,and make them feel,
complete and divine, as a goddess.
as y make them feel.

or a lioness, in the hand of a fouling,
and feverishly beast. burning and longing,
for the tresor, in their chalis, as mother earth,
smelling as her, as a jungle, and a door,
to infinite delights, between their thighs.

the shadow in my ear, y can see her pain,
but, it was his ******* choice, trie to be me,
and didn't make it, for being weak.

as an adult, inside the veil,
of a mouse's in a suit, the persistence
is futile, a shadow, trying in vain,

to be as me, but can't be but himself.
a lame little shadow mouse, in loved,
with a beast, can't love until she love
herself.

can't live or know anybody,
until he knows himself, and accept
his truth, until that happens, nothing,
will save him from him,
and his shame, is a cross.

as a man, can't live, as a boy either.
just as a shadow, in my body, trying to be me.
but failing at it, to weak and vain, to be me.

all y think, as i watch her, is thinking,
and for this  ****,  almost burn my ***,
and destroy my life, good choices, babes

but all wrongs, can't be forgiven,
or excused. all the pain was
hell on earth, but still unbreakable.


and loving even those that y still
hate, the lover's love even **** haters.

covered by lies, y emerge from the hell

some girls create, for the one, who wasn't.
an they where never me.
and now anyone can see. it was only
lies and deceit, little girls playing dodgeball,

for the shame of the creeps
not everything can be forgiven,
as y say,  good choice babes.

20 years later, they still can't be me,
or not feel ashamed for their weakness,
or accepting their fate, and being without
feeling a ******* disgrace,

but nothing to
be ashamed of,
just their cowardness,
like tigers not accepting
the stripes,

creepy shadow on my wall,
you will never be me.
accept it and be free,

or you'll end up blowing lucy,
in the basement, loving the burning,
of HELL.

as THE shadow of a mouse,
in Lucy's playground,
suffering, and being only
you, the one you hate.

but you never were me.

i watch obsenity,
lascivious acts,
looking for normality,

the spoted back, the traps
are everiwhere, and
*** is inspiring, i aspire to
normality, an afective life

healing mi heart, and accept
the *******, of relations, and feel
normal, all live'd theyr lives,
mine was stolen, for some creep old *******,
just the need, of feeling normal, accept the pain

as a normal man, or trie to feel as one,
is the gold of watching *** on the phone net,
the search of normality, despice the eyes y adore
and the highnes of loving someone, up there,

and every once a year or so, there is this look
in front of me, loving me in secret, understanding,
silent and sweet, all the rest if stupidity, and wounds
of a child arrased for the creeps, and their need of posses
someone, they don't understand, or love, is just obsession.

even so, the spots in my back, are clean,
my sanity too, so sometimes watching ****,
is just looking for normality, and wash away the pain,
of carry the creep in my ears. still inside my ears,
talking to me, and never letting go.

as whympy woman, or a souless creep,
but never get to me, **** in the window,
remainds me, how creepy and stupid they are.

and me, i m feeling more normal every day,
my heart is operative, and ready to live, dispise
the creep. i am a free man, alive and clean,
my soul is good, my heart is pumping, and i am,
very normal and *****, indeed.

he told her he had nothing to cut for.
he trie to tell her she had stunning eyes.
he told her she was beautiful, yet he had never
seen the scars
everyday they would talk. endlessly
all day for hours
she was in love with him
she thought he would never love her back
she knew there was someone else
he told her she should love herself more
he told her to compliment herself in the mirror
but she couldn't
everyday she grew more in love with him
but
doubted herself even more so
when he smiled she swore it was like putting
down the knife
his eyes gleamed like the stars in the night sky
she thought she could stop
for him
but he didn't know how it felt to be
second best
but he didn't know how it felt to be
suicidal

It's a sad day when you relaize
that all along you loved ablack hole
always taking and  noithign gained i trie= nf
as'dfihiwor____

Your eyes tell a story your mouth,
Or your brain.
You can always tell if there is anything wrong,
           Pain,
                   Fear,
                           Joy,
                              And sadness.

You trie to  conceal the pain,
But someone will know.
Your eyes tell a story,
Weather you want to tell it or burn it.