With eyes so bright
as to dull the, blinding, city lights,
she raced throughout my mind.
It is not entirely clear
why the, mere, sound of her voice
rings like a song, so pleasant with me.
I think, that what it is, I feel
is what the world calls love.
I have no need for these eyes,
if love, truly, is blind.
& I'll let you cut off my ears,
if love needs not hear.
I write all these words
yet, I know it's a curse
because I will always wish
to see & hear her.
She is so vibrant, so kind
& one thing I wouldn't mind
would be spending some time-
growing and withering
with her.

She must've been of the feline species,
because thoughts of her
keep coming back to me.
She purred, soft as a kitten,
when I had something to offer.
She bit like a lion
and told me to get off her- cloud
when I tried to say, aloud,
"I (k)ne(a)d you."
Alas, Lord knows, I'd be lyin'
if I said I hadn't thought of her
the very next day.
I disperse my time and effort,
attempting to ensure
that she is never feeling hurt.
I sit here, rhyming thoughts,
all the while a filthy dog
has his paws in her fur.
It doesn't matter though
because the cat came back
the very next day.
What can I say?
I've always been a sucker
for a hungry lion in disguise
as a lovely little kitten.

After sipping down, another, two ale--,
I seem to walk straight-
yet I still, internally, stumble about.
I possess a clumsy brain
with a face so pale.
--Or... was it stout?
A mind commences crumbling
while he wearily watches.
He writes down his mumbling
& waits for them to mock his
cognitive dissonance
& sensitivity.

I can sense it, you tell the lies.
"Nothing", "Just tired", "I'm fine".
I can see through your disguise.
Baby girl, open up to me.. you are mine,
& I am yours. T'whom you, I adore.
You see, you think you are hidden?
But- I see You, in your eyes.
Has someone auctioned off pain;
you must've accidentally put a bid in..
Because it seems you have won
your fair share of misery.

Roll up a scroll of
that green sh*t that'll make the
weak ones produce drool.

The sound of a key
sliding into its lock.
The old wooden door,
heavily, creaks open.
Two figures stumble in
though they are so close
that thy may perceive them as one.
                    THUNK
The old wooden door shuts,
with such shock.
Their primal temptations,
they begin to elope in.
Thoughtless mumbling:
who is it that knows
who is running across their minds
during this sensual fun?
Skin tingling from a serenade of chemicals.

With my frail fingers entwined,
just- ever, so tight- so firmly,
upon this beloved bottle of wine,
I find the time to rhythmically rhyme
the things- thoughts- upon my mind.

The southern Sun has departed,
duely, beyond the heavens- horizon.
Though, I, merely, must know
that it will soon return.
I shan't remain this way eternally.
I do not feel- do not think- the gods 
wish to slay me down- ****** me.

"This world, surely, 
 has more is store, Crowley-
 for you- (You) have been through
a vast amount of distance 
& witnessed a grand number 
of events."