On Tinder;
simply to see
whether, or not,
Brandy would swipe
right for me.
It, still, has yet to be..
but a man can dream.

The light shone upon my eyes
every, single, time that she walks by
would leave fierce gladiator's blind.
I may be seen as wise, but-
behind these brown eyes -
I am the guy who will, quickly,
greet his demise -
should I never feel her thighs -
constricting the sounds around my -
ears.
This lust has lived for so many years.
I want, nothing more than,
to whisper in your ear-
    the sweetest nothing's
& the realest something's.

I am a weathered statue,

silently, crumbling away into nothing.

I was built at your base -

  in your magnificent presence,

  in rains falling, under leaves rustling,

  beneath the heavens

  that are you.

Gah! The thought of your face -

  forces a smile unto my own.

  --  

In the past, the depths of my skull
 
have been unsettlingly hazy.

But, smoke only lingers so long.
 
It's as though - I have pulled -

  a plug from my ears 

  and, so swiftly,

  the smoke dissipates above.

 I guess all I really needed

  was a gentle shove - from myself.

--

To be the man for her - would be

to have, oh, so much wealth.

Clouds-,
 like layers of paper mache
upon the outermost atmosphere-,
 block the central Sun's rays
from reaching my skin- and retinas-
here - on Earth.  

"The nest in which I rest -
  would be so much more bless - ed
 with your head nestled - next to mine,"

  I reckon - whilst transcending a 'Rest Inn,'
  -  in a deep day dream session.

I am pining a princess
who has been magnificent
since, a time, long, long ago;

long before
  I made out who it was, I was;

long before
  my foolish, baby lips beared fuzz;

long before
  life smacked me upon the head,
  quite abrupt;

long before
  I f'cked, oh, so many things up.

  -

She is a mythical folklore
that I pray in the future, stored,
will become reality.

  -

Oh! how silly of me..

  -

I could have swore 
I had another pack of cigarettes.

-

I must've ignored 
how much I had smoked,
contemplating this life's regrets. 

-

In my dungeon, you'll find me choked-
up; wishing the day we met-
went better than it had.

-

I'm going mad.   --

Oh!

Mister Field Mouse,

 Please scurry off this gravel road!
I just want to get home, to my house,
  & take the load off of my shoulders
   - for a minute.

I wish not, to do you harm;
  in fact, seeing you there
 sounded an alarm 
  - in my mind.

So - if you'd mind,
  I'd love for us to, both, pass safely.
Please, my friend, don't act crazy
  & emerge from the brush
  as I rush- past at two miles
  - an hour.

Your death would be so sour.
  - and I'm, already, feeling a lot.
Your death would devour my mind;
  - I'd be, all, full of tears & snot.

So -  let's not.

A scarlet liquid dripping-, ever, so gently
  unto the crisp, spring soil
  causes the most faint tapping sound -
  to occur.
   tap
     tap
He feels the life slipping-, ever, so swiftly.
In a puddle of blood, thick as oil,
   he finds himself a comfortable spot
   on the ground- to ensure
   that he doesn't feel the fall.
    tap
      tap
Things become a blur,
  as he smiles: remembering it all.
   The beauty of life, so pure.