We are the blind faith of birds believing
In these empty sightless winds,
Sugar-spun cotton candy clouds; two kites
With trailing long strings.

We require no advice on the art of how
To fly, tangled traffic threads of candy cane
Lines of the clouds of yesteryears –
Our drive is sometimes a descent down
A mountain, make the time to embrace the sky;
Glide!

I gave up on my possession of love, to make
Peace with those demons; tears cascade like
Contemporary storms, running rivulets; craters
Upon our skin as the ache of hurt deepens...

Stinging like the creases of a well-worn shirt;
Lessons etched in the fabric of new wrinkles –
Still to remain as the silhouettes of the horizon.

An empty hand will keep on searching,
a full hand is satisfied with what appears enough
The heart pleasantly echoes an expression of love,
but it’s a blinding siren, without putting the mind to it.

The eye is the most jealous body part,
the mouth an unkind blade of a man’s great envy
The ill of man, is quickly giving a judging
depth between their sins and others;
As according to us; the next person is the greater sinner.

Your faith wasn’t a quick given,
as you learnt how to cherish it firstly, as a beginner
How you live, comes from the ways you choose to adopt,
some do start out strong, faithful, loving caring and humble,
But throw in pieces of fortune into the combination, and
their morals are bought out and lost.

Your greatest mistake is what isn’t done yesterday,
and the longest regret isn’t doing it at all
Drunkards can drink together, laugh fight, &
drink together again; yet a sobered heart, will hold
onto unforgiveness until death.

Finally and true, a childish person,
still chases after their old youth
As a child forced to grow up quickly,
despises their own youth
As you’d find bliss in a lie of your own desire,
and would be disgusted by what is spoken in Truth.

All the innocent eyes-
guilty of something;
Guilty pleasures that lie,
resting in between their eye.

This life is bitter; dearly to me—as only a moment
is sweet. My eyes deafen defeat, defending it's right
to channel violence with peace.

There's a war inside of me!

A looming shadow is every brick, every corner, every
tiny echo of the walls. Of my room, my mind, heart and
unfortunate life. Fortunes of which are counted in Heaven.
A golden castle —I'd trade every brick on earth.
Trading my life away of this unsettled grief.

I know there’s more time we could have spent – forever striving to
close a gap between love and loathing; spreading myself thin as the
bridge I am. Parts of me still want to be your man, especially in the
solitude that envelops me, carved into twelve equal pieces; echoing
the essence of what we were and what we might have become.

Gazing into the mirror, at a reflection that won’t stare back; both of
us lost in trying to understand what they’re seeing.

My love for you echoes a silhouette; passions like dark phantoms in a
hushed chamber where you stand across – my heart is lost! What once
felt familiar is now scattered by a tempest, carrying away the words
that once escaped our kiss – two bruised lips, conjoined hips in passion,
now reduced to a mere bruised ego.

Vast eyes begin to flutter open, yet never wide enough for these tears
to escape their confines. I am filled with regret; I should have wept for
you long ago.

World's appetite for devastation,
leaves it always hungry
Those who feel like nothing,
will be the ones to do something
Behind every shadow, is a long battle,
Climbing our dreams. Don't fall off the ladder.

Who tries to make ends meat,
but never been fed
Pray on the daily, for just for an extra slice of bread?

I want some cake,
just to know the taste.
Make a little dough, so I can bake,
Get stuck in some beef. A while
since I've had some steak.
Put your life on the line, just to see what's at stake.

Food for thought I gave, can I have some feedback,
Light on all my responses, guess I'm just a snack.
Pray for me, with grace, and thanks.
To never overindulge, avoiding stomach cramps.

And a couple meals, to keep me fed.
Gain a couple pounds, earn a little bread.

My eyes are hungry.

the dew of my tears feels wet on tight sleeves
the sweat from my brow jumps like water in springtime
and if I could use words to describe my heart – it would
only seal away my lips

my tears are like scattering flowers
blown away by the winds – my lungs are a leafless branch
veiled in such a dry cough; choking away at my pride

nights I’ve dreamt of suicide, to live on
and tell of it lies; it was an empty void that wouldn’t fill
the belly of some hungry wild dog – and if I could speak
a fruitful prophecy for my life, my lips would be the scent of plums.

I found a beautiful threshold of you
-lost somewhere, in one of my dreams
the very last of us both laughing, speaking love,
singing sweet nothings, being the best stanzas; -
these days it’s just callous lines, of a forgotten poem.

I am not liberated; I’ll be drinking till I’m free
Dancing like a puppet; a puppet with no strings
If this is the land of promise; promise that none
Of the promises have skipped me

Do not assume that it’s over, to consume your  
Self-worth to just presume that you’re sober  
To close your eyes, to feel your joy coming closer
I do not amuse the fact of getting older, or overlook
The fact that the world is close to being over

Here is the past, images of your youth running past
Memories of it all, live as long as you last, be careful
Not to be chasing the pleasures of it, as chasing after lust
Take a secret fast; cleanse yourself of the regrets that
Have come past

In these vacant palms — cradled by the essence of my aspirations;
I clung to you with every enduring emotion, trembling and slick
with the weight of nostalgia, far beyond what could be deemed
ordinary, or wise in grasping at faded recollections.

My throat feels parched; I gulped down a swarm of love bugs,
hoping to replenish the affection I’ve lost — lost lovers. My
fingers bear the scars of nervous habits, raw and gnawed down
to the quick; the restless heart fears that the sharpness of love
might not pierce me as it once did.

Beautiful reflection; why do you seem so empty...
weighing your faith, yet your doubt overflows plenty,
plunging back into the abyss of your sadness—
your declarations of worth echo loudly, yet your lips
remain sealed, indifferent to the truth that aches to be spoken.

Beautiful reflection; why do you seem so empty...
Arms withdrawn from embrace, a gaze a sharp weapon,
severing ties to love, drifting like a forsaken leaf—
your words, mere shadows of substance, a hunger
that only leaves the soul impoverished.

Beautiful reflection; why do you seem so empty...
I should have come more often; would you expect me?
From the grime that clings to my skin, I sift through the
muck for miracles, offering a sweet smile that belies
a heart worn and weary...

Beautiful reflection; why do you seem so empty;
“cos I have gazed upon my reflection too many times,
as the glass being half empty.”

Physical desires intertwine with emotional sensations;
the gentle caress of skin speaks volumes about the essence of
one’s character. Unveiling the joy nestled deep within your spirit,
playful, alluring smiles flicker in the radiance of her being.
As the weight of guilt, anger, and anxiety often shadows the one
you cherish, mingling with the mysteries that linger unspoken.
In the wake of a love that has slipped away, she dances through
fragments of her dreams, clad in well-worn socks, still striving to
find her footing. There’s a lingering fear of being tainted by another-
whether through intimacy or confusion—yet she clings to the
innocence of her youth.

A lovely woman stands at your threshold, inviting you to
embrace her; don’t hesitate to welcome her warmth, for her heart
deserves to be cherished. Public displays of affection may be mere
theatrics, but the sincerity behind your words can convey her true
value, no matter the distance between you. Take pride in calling her
yours, but remember, she is not a possession; she is a daughter
of the Divine.

Seek not your reward in her actions meant to please you,
but rather find joy in the vulnerability she shares exclusively with
you, unmasked and genuine. Honour her in such a way that even
with her eyes closed, she can still feel your presence.
Love your woman fiercely, safeguarding her as your treasured gem—
not by offering the world, but by creating a sanctuary where
both of you can thrive together

Skeletons trapped in
the closet;
trying to pick a bone,
I'm feeling so lost;
or maybe I'm just
feeling alone.

You know what they say about men with big feet –
“the socks don’t fit so easily on the first try”
And by the series of events, the more you get to
know someone; the easier it is to relax together –
"Netflix and chill"

But a job not done so well has an obvious result –
“hit it, and quit it”
A few men put up so well with a woman’s
whole bag of *******; lets just blame –
“that good junk in the trunk”

Find someone to rest your worries on –
“some good pillow talk”
Have a kick out of extracurricular activities –
“with an *** to boot, in your boot knocking”

Still stand on your standards, but avoid living
on double standards – not everything works
so well with their – “double meanings”

Cast forth a handful of these pro seeds;
a promise of potential – hoping the value of
them, proceeds the muck that clings to your spirit.
The filth of your mind you must strain per sieve;
being wise to carry a filter, for all the shadows that
your mind will perceive.

As I'm learning the art of resilience;
refusing to fret whenever life wears me down
– like a flower dressed by the whims of the seasons;
whether you like it out, life is full of these changes.
So gather a bouquet of flowers on top of your head,
to remind you of such a nature, and don them as
a regal crown.

Everything will become nothing; snuggling closely
To all those days much brighter than yesterday
Running out of places to hide my shadow- a rush hour
Of emotions, hoping not to get stuck in more traffic
Laying on the sofa, putting a lot of thoughts in place
While she does so too, re-arranging her wig; sipping on cola
Weaving, adoring words to say at little speaking volumes;
Channelling together those gentle souls; generally speaking
Of how her tears sink away into the grass, like thirsty water
Thursday nights, where I’m planning to disappear into the earth
Folding into old habits with origami precision; time’s prison
Is feasting on me for dinner, and I’m drinking myself thinking
I don’t appreciate the time you and I spend together
But I argue with myself about it, when you’re only away

And it’s funny, how I’d pretend not to care;
Now here is the man who cares enough when you’re not there

To hope and dream:
IS for us all to believe.
To search and find:
IS to know our desires.
To love and cherish:
IS being raised as such.

A laugh, isn't as loud as a smile-
Laugh in pain;
pain hidden in a smile.
A bellow in our thoughts:
IS  the roar of sorrow.
Feast on today's successes:
IS the regret of tomorrow.

IS a child; whose eyes learn a father,
IS a mouth; that builds a character,
but harsh tongue to destroy them.

IS a child; whose eyes love a mother,
IS a hand; that rests gentle love,
but sparing rod that spoils them.

IS what one man does;
IS so done to another.
And we are; IS to the present;
as IS the will of us all.

Is... it not?

Oh soul, my soul
where shall we go
At the crossroads; feels like
I have no other place to go

Oh soul, my soul
countless demons want this soul
As they count less of us, all out for someone's soul
—they want my soul, they want my soul
And I'm afraid I don't have the strength to say no

Oh soul, my soul
I don't want the world's gold;
just the means and tools to make my own
I don't want the entire world;
just a place I built on my own, and to call home
I don't want to feel alive with success;
just feeling some worth, and die peacefully alone

Oh soul, my soul
is it worth a soul
—is it worth our soul?

"I don't know, I don't know
I'm still waiting for a bad deal with the man
waiting for me at Death's crossroads"

The rustic wood exudes an oak essence,
imparting feelings reminiscent of timber
running through the depths of
a contemplative mind.

The morning wood embodies a
hardness akin to the tenacity of roots
growing defiantly out of solid mountain
rock—a force to be reckoned with.
She savors a taste that mingles with a sense
of triumph, a bittersweet victory vividly
displayed through a masked countenance.

Her prowess is demonstrated by
splitting rocks effortlessly with
the razor-sharp edges of her teeth,
wielding a tongue that doubles as a
deft weapon, teasing and tasting with
calculated precision. Each fiber of the pink
flower's stem is thoroughly imbued with flavor,
with a cascade of nectar streaming down
his throat, carrying forth every inspired
thought on a voyage of fervent creativity.

Reflecting on the past reveals remnants
of everything that has been left behind,
a realm where he fearlessly surmounts
challenges from behind the scenes.

Amidst disciplined actions, he occasionally
employs stern measures, firm and
unwavering. In his possession is a
substantial jumbo jet, soaring high into
the skies, causing her eyes to involuntarily
roll back in sheer awe, a testament to the
impressive magnitude of his influence.

Tell me how to wind up the wind’s tears trapped in my broken
car window. How to play a heart’s love songs on an old radio –
with the buzzing sounds in the speakers, speaking so ill of me.

And if I fall on my knees, would you watch me take my bow;
would you look me deep in my eyes, as if searching for a heaven;
or anything close to a safe haven?

While others marry happily yesterday, to be merry for tomorrow –
savouring the bites of sweet nothings; suckling, to feed a need
of their skin’s heat. In the rest of their night, they rest on innocent
linen washed with their tears of joy – but what if I don’t cry
anymore?

The wind in my life journey, has blown away my tears.

Searching for love;
feels like a risk
Especially after-
that first kiss.

The azure of my skin – a shade reminiscent of the vast ocean,
melancholic as a distant horizon that forever eludes fulfilment;
it never seems complete. How can I compete with this solitude –
lying in a bed stripped of its warm embrace… Blue adorned my
pillowcase, where I dreamt of the crime of love; she stole my heart
in a blue-collar crime.

And blue was the only remnant she left behind, a sorrowful hue
that echoed my longing for a love that was never truly mine.

I owe you my attention
Jesus you owe me nothing
You can do all you can do
I'm tired of being restless
When I can't see myself
You can see me through and through

Caught up in my affection
No one loves me as you do
I come to you in repentance
I just owe you my attention
Giving every piece of my heart all to you

Nothing is as substantial
Jesus you're all that matters
In the questions of the world
I put you first, and trust your answers

You're a gold ring, and a rose
Covenants you've made—so beautiful
All the words you spoke, I'm in awe

Coming back for your bride
Let me make her pleasingly pure
Coming to fill my entire heart
Let me clear space in every room
Lord I need you now—I need you

I owe you my attention
I am so empty, being a vessel
Broken as I am, you still give blessing
I just owe you my attention

Lord you have all my attention

In Jesus name, Amen.

I’m left bare by a grizzly burden of a bear upon my thoughts – heavy,
and hibernating; as the love of my life dashes across the winding road
of my mind – my eyes are headlights illuminating to my dear. My
love for her still endures, even when she poses her ***** questions,
“Would you still love me if I were a worm crawling through the
dirt?” Of course, my heart answers yes, for I often ponder how she so
effortlessly wiggled her way into my life.

“Does this outfit make me look fat?” she asks, and I reply with a
cheerful “no,” yet the the elephant in the room, is always remembering that fateful night when I jokingly answered yes, and I became
irrelevant over her bedside.

Yet, I am the dog, when I **** her off – but it’s okay, for I know I’ll
simply mark my territory in that doghouse. Still, like a devoted pup,
my tail wags with joy at the sound of her voice. And if my attempts to
win her back after a quarrel make her sweet on me again – then I
suppose I’m a bee, and you, my darling, I call Honey.

The reality is, we’ve always recognized the humour in my antics –
and our love is animal, untamed and primal, yet beautifully
restrained by the fervour of our unwavering devotion to one another.

We rise, we fall
We fight for many just to lose it all.
I hold my gun for it's the only thing closest to me.
Seen so much blood that it's so hard to dream.
I'm going down, I caught a grenade.

We march, we follow
We fight these wars on courage we borrow.
I chew on bullets just to keep my strength.
My nose has gone dull from the smell of stench.
I'm going down, I caught a grenade.

We shoot, we ****,
They told us all winning the war would be thrill.
My eyes are shut upon darkness,
My soul dark and cold that it can't bloom flowers.
I'm going down, I caught a grenade.

We ducked for cover,
But the enemies found us and shot my brother.
We tried to fight back, but it was all for waste,
The grenade they threw blew half my face.
I'm going down, I caught a grenade.

We won the war,
But the victory cut through me like a saw.
Was once a man,
But only now the half of him.
I was going down, I caught a grenade.

Going down, I caught a grenade.

Drifting slow on a sinking boat,
Shallow waters still sinking my feet and soul.

In the feelings of being felt. Only feels closely good when I've left my innocence round a corner.
Don't hate me for the flesh taking control. I'm not fully around when it goes down.

Drunk in the lonely thoughts. It's a warm place I say but the world sees it cold.

And maybe perhaps I could be the stranger to this, like the new kid round the block.
Neighbors staring at you like I could rob your daughter's Heart with just a pick of the lock.

Just don't make the mistake that all good people couldn't have the bit of bad in the day,
When we go through the night crying on the pillow all the pain.

Be a shame

Thinking all cool kids were the ones driving cars so young and early,
Till current days thinking on it, I feel quite dumb and silly.

I mess things up,
Sometimes I wanna go back to the days of finding happiness at the bottom of this cup.

It kinda *****,
******* smarter than a fancy tux.

Riding solo in a world often chasing you behind. Guess it's my fault wanting to ride in front.

Try to catch up to me if you could,
Try to **** me, please I wish you would.

Rather die on the dirt a free slave,
Than a slave alive outside and a rotting corpse inside.

And as a tongue lifts,
The words in between lips form:
As for a moment; do our lies last,
In endurance of our forever,
Do all truthful lips reside:

As I did taste a sense of deceit,
At a touch of lips when we kissed:

Perhaps this is why our love was but a moment.

You grew out of my eyes – wild, and wet
you held the weight of my pain;

Carrying my tears after the rain
  the white lotus after my pain’s rain.

Feelings drained: ensnared in the relentless grasp of time’s
drain — spiralling just before the inevitable plunge; a descent
into nothingness. The narrative unfolds; a black hole nestled
in my chest; I am its plug- feeding it every toxic craving to fill the
void. The chill seeps in as I lie sprawled on the floor, gazing up
at the distant heavens.

I should shield my eyes with memories of the Word, yet I
find myself lost in the endless scroll of my phone — I ought
to whisper words of encouragement on the days when coping
feels impossible, but my lungs are heavy with smoke.

I need someone to explain the enigma of love, yet all I crave
is a taste of every girl that crosses my path. In the mirror, I see
only a ****, masked with a genuine smile draped over a hollow
shell, devoid of thought; it simply seeks gratification, even if
too much indulgence leads to regret.

I’m addicted to pleasure; yet each fleeting moment leaves
me feeling the least pleased.

Staring at this phone;-
Still waiting for the courage in myself to call
Your longing voice reflecting in my heart, like an echo
Clearly when I’m alone; swallowing the guitar strings
To play a soft melody in every one of my spoken words

But every time the phone’s waiting sound
Rings in my ear, every reason soon departs; I hang up
The phone before it even connects- feeling we’re no longer
As connected, as we used to be before;

So please, please save yourself, time, worth and words,
By all means, not feeling regretful to pick up the phone…

Incidents; I could of made a meal out
of myself, with the incidentals
I'm so usually full of myself,
so credit me for being prideful with proud credentials
And tell me what you care about most,
but please forgive me for saying, "yeah whatever"
So we can go make a bet on ourselves, but I'm
always betting on this time not fairing any better
Screaming at the walls so much, that a doctor is
rushing for a cure; but one of us is losing a reason to be patient

Bad mood 1

I stubbed my toe, but was too stubborn
to acknowledge any of the pain
And after I bit my inner cheek at supper,
I went to bed extra cheeky today
My vape ran out of steam, and I started to
evaporate from the crave,- I felt a bit like vapour to date
And there's a piece of bone stuck in my tooth,
now I've got a bone to pick with anything coming my way

Bad mood 2

I spilled my last sip under my bed,
great, no my unrest comes from down under
Chucking blundstones to your ankle length,
but it all ends with me admitting to another blunder
I'm not feeling so bright today; still I have faith in
the next day's sunlight- I hope we can warm up each other


Bad mood 3

Today I barked up the wrong tree,
and somebody got really *******
The week was a bit too hard to handle,
like a ******* girl by a ***** so soft
As I was trying to enter a course, like a game of life
playing a bit of golf; ***** deep in work, that ******* me off
I turned on a friendly smile I keep in my left pocket,
for the right of someone to be allowed to be angry
at me, as a one-off

                     I guess my mood from this piece is a bit off.

To give summer kisses, but they taste like winter.
Called her flower, but every time he's with her,
she will slowly wither.

In her eyes—overwhere it always burns.
But not of passions; just a feeling of her scorned
flesh. Ashamed, close enough to bruise.
Filthy fingers that are winter in June.

Under his toxic power—oh the death of a flower.

My excuses for wild love,
not a **** cheetah.
The truth is,
the feeling does make me starve.
A loving man, but also a hungry creature.

Pardon the time I waste,
tend be doing *******
Gibberish written on my face,
many words sound garbage.
I'm a real mess, I must confess.

Mind the shattered ideas,
best to pop the bulb
Explaining myself as such isn't ideal,
but I'm not one to be loud
Much quieter in the silence of the crowd.

Excuse myself from peers,
not on the same surface of pressure
Excuse myself from kids,
off the scale who can't measure
Worth me understanding,
but also understanding depression
I'm not lessor,
but I am one to question.

Excuse me for this,
and I'll excuse you for that
Excuse me being lost at times,
life didn't come with a map.
All we do could be the last risk.

But not an excuse to never take it.

If I could have a taste of everything,
I’ll probably die, before I dine—with a jaded smile;
Cos everything that you see, is really not worth the time.

we are speech and breath
the days are red; painted blushes in the sky
would the Heavens tell us stories of true love –
a message well read?

And in this life, we:
Live, we regret, we learn –
Lessons from regret

And for bodies, we are:
Skins, touch, ecstasies in –
Two hearts that touch

Finally, we are all to:
Love, give breath, have *** –
To expect, another breath

              We all create.

Is she merely a commodity, – or is she a daring spirit, traversing
the farthest reaches of love? To express to her young – an odyssey!
Often, they would hastily declare that a woman's deeds are common;
but to counter, her core is to weave a painting of sentences adorned
with countless comas.

She…

Is a stormy love, obliterating all that stands against compassion,
wielding a wisdom that is both fierce and gentle, she knows precisely
when to voice her thoughts or to elevate the spirit of a man who may
overlook her brilliance, a celestial body, she requires no stage to
illuminate the world; her radiance persists, unwavering, she is a
lyrical composition, igniting the pages that attempt to confine her
value, she embodies the sweetest of a restless soul, finally finding
solace in her nurturing embrace, she is tranquillity, she is affection,
she is the embodiment of patience, the lessons and warnings of a
discerning gaze – she is… a Woman.

Puzzled— are all of the pieces falling away,
or falling quietly into place: these are assumptions from
the course of nothing, hoping to become something-
As for something for the time, I’ve come to ask whether
the feeling of nothing isn’t a feeling of things not fitting
well into their place

The picture feels like a maze labyrinth of emotions,
written so well out in braille- as that’s all I can honestly
feel right now

As the laid grail, comes from a sore back with *******
sacrifices- through the chambers of night; that which scares
me the most, is the constant nights where I’m trying to put
the puzzle pieces together of my life.

Read from bottom to the top!


                                                         to fall of its E
                                               waiting                   D
                                 ­        curve,                            G
                         ­         unjust                                   E
                               an                                             •
                       such                                                      
      ­              on                                                 ­            
              lives                                 ­                               
          our
    live
We

Even on this long road of thoughts; some days I don’t know my way
with words – as to describe your face; it just drives me so insane.
“You’re so pretty,” feels a bit too plain; so it always bears down on
me, this pressure. A rock in a hard place, and I’m also being pressed
with stones, biting on my words, that I bruised my lip. Slowly sinking
deeper, and letting blood flow – being so afraid of your reflection of
me, staring back from your eyes, as my tears dance along a running
stream. How you’ve become this silhouette of a perfect dream.

But I'm not as deep as I seem to be; just like swimming in a pool, I
first need to find my feet. And I’m only a pebble against your skin;
trying to skip across our conversations, and finding a reason to kiss.
But instead, I'm laughing in the bathroom mirror, letting the echoes
of that room wash me clean. And it would seem in vain to say I
fell in love with you – even as I wear your smile under my skin.

So I quietly let those very six words find their rest, and go back to
my bed, and sleep – cause who the hell really feels the depth of
those words, over a late-night text?

Never too wise to stay up late, with the opposite friend.

You cherish me merely as a coin — always anticipating change,
you seek me out only when it’s time for heads, chasing after tail.
I’ve been tossed about by you countless times; my feet now bear
the weight of my head. Say you love to call me, “mine,” yet
you handle me like a mere dime tucked away in your pocket –
only reaching for me when your hands are empty of anything
else to own- and pass me around like a debt you owe.

Beloved, your touch is far chillier than all the jealousy that
exists in this world. I'm just a cold coin to you.

As I rest on the rigid air – a leaf drifts down, soothing in
its descent; by a gush, the wind that blows through hair.
Tears cascade like rain, shattering and scattering as they
touch the ground— parting the throng of young and old,
all yearning for the fill of love to seep deep into their pores.

I am merely a frigid leaf; the tear of my once grief
the bruise of all dreams pursued with bare feet.

The gentle kiss of light seeks to rekindle the spark in your
eyes— I've heard the haunting echoes of blindness, of a
relentless quest for self, yet finding nothing of substance.

I am just a sigh, empty and bare.

Please pardon me; when I say, "it's all of me, all of me."
That's just the pride that swallows me; every time you love on
me, hug on me, each time we're cuddling, and snuggling. The
pretty scars look so ugh-gly; and that's not what I want my love
to be; honestly.

Making me wonder, "what the F," of the effort I'm taking; no
mistaking the fools of swine eating bacon. That's the charity
of clarity; giving your heart to all of the crowds, of all those
boys you met around. You've been around. Chasing circles
of where to be; as it seems. Dogs chasing tails; till it gets stuck
in your teeth. There's no peace, but the piece of sorrow; when your feelings were deceased. Diseased by the love sickness; as random kisses was the weakness to your knees.

I'm begging you please,

to stop pretending; that you're not trying to save up your worth
overspending; never-ending story of the people having the seconds of love's sequel. I'm a prequel to thought. What words are in the courts. All the illegal things that we bought; while breaking a few laws. I'm now allergic to a thought, of you giving me goosebumps in my pores.

I paused...

So you could stop playing my heart. Love loves to play with my
heart.

I paused...

Love loves to play with my heart.  Tell me when does it stop?

Under tears of-
          rain;  
We're   all         the
        same.

No matter of
                    where
    you
           came. ..

We all take life-
       day by
                  day;
Sit,
  wait  and
                      pray. ..

What      stops 
                       God;
  doing  a    
 ­                miracle
       today?  

Sit,    
             wait,
and  
                      pray.

         Enjoy the-
kissing tears
                    of the
                        
                             Rain.

As much, in every man’s eye- eroticism brings excitement,
the lines of wrinkled sheets are a retreat without restraint
Every one of our kisses tastes like they matter; we flatter
each other on playing it casual— until anticipated and complete
She is no less than a queen; she sits on my thrown, ruled by these
words- all the shells of the shots I’ve shot; whenever we're around
we stain the ground; inhaling a bit of hell, with every bad habit

Moisture: more so to the reply of, “yes sir”
her tears echo soothing rain, but these tired red eyes don't see
much love- but still when it comes to touch; I'm filled with ideas
by her flood. Words keeping on flowing; but my regards to any
authority, I've been living lawlessly - against her authority

Old habits can’t really die when they pass,
even as an *** shakes backwards, with all the regrets to take
me back to my past. You can still taste a lot of things much harder
to swallow than your pride— that burning heat of passion, from
your mouth’s chamber: an abode of sweet remembrance
Now, as we must, not discuss about the label of us- in a nutshell
the conversation changes tone after someone’s nut is bust
****, how rough is that- we played a role to work ourselves
out of lust. We call each other, our Devil’s assistant…

A story of an edible piece,
food for thought to make you think.

I cut a pear in half,
and admittedly had a pair.
My two bananas friends broke up,
something I'd like to say was, "a banana split".
My peach friend proposed an idea,
but we don't listen to the peach pitch an idea.

Later on that day I chased
a man for being so annoying.
Told him to "go",
and boy did that mango.

I think his name was Barry,
told him it was the last straw.
So I yelled, "it's the last Strawberry".

Afterwards I was late,
for a romantic dinner with a fruit.
(It was a date).

Along the way,
I bumped into a  group of immature grapes,
funny because they were quick to wine.
I thought to myself, "what a bunch of sour grapes"

I noticed a doctor walking up to me,
and I felt really uncomfortable.
So I grabbed an apple and threw it at him,
to keep that doctor away today.
Next I noticed a pinning apple,
which had me thinking, "what a pineapple".

By the end of my story,
my date didn't go so well.
She ordered a coke. And I wanted to seem extra healthy,
So I ordered a fruit cocktail.

She left me alone, not before pouring out
her infatuations towards me.
To be honest, I thought that was just
a silly fruit crush.

That day I had enough of fruit.

I just pray she doesn't have an older brother,
he might beat me to a pulp.