The sun surprisingly reflects against
your yellow dress; barrier languages between us both
Old memories of such a coy smile; your love’s rarity
and royalty are trimmed with so much purple
Tired old bones desperately trying to pop back in place,
under the sunshine popping out to cheer me up
When it chooses to appear from out of the clouds;
it’s flashing that skirt once more.

Embracing your love while plunging deeper into the
silent sea of solitude: it’s a struggle to stay afloat,
The thankless night calls out for weary souls- feeling
abandoned in their search for solace; as the sanctuary of
angels seem to drift further away. Isolation and despair
that fills the night air.

It feels distant and elusive; trying to find those words
to express one’s love for another- even in their comforting
presence; all the words are quietly leaving them
Adding to the overwhelming sense that it only gets harder
knowing what to do, after you confess your love to a crush.

bought crushies for a crush;
but she told me I was just a friend,
a brother on the hush,
pouring out how her boyfriend got back together
a few days after they broke up,
i had a crush on a crush that crushed my heart,
a crushing feeling.

Eastward
rising in me rising for you.
Following behind just like a fool,
for words of your lips and kisses.

Lineage
has me walking the line
Hoping to be bound as I tap on your spine,
deserving more glances of you besides in pictures.

Darling
you become almost like spring
Forcing me to be out here jumping
while my heart is doing more than blossom thumping,
You only gave me nothing, but from it
I somehow took something.

Insecurity
always stopped me from expressing
For I've been down on my luck, it's so depressing
too afraid to actually fall in love,
Love gave only to me it's cruelty.

Babe
I don't know if I could swear to you
not to curse myself to be stuck as glue
Trying to pick out between so many emotions,
which one might keep me saved.

Instead
I act the quiet fool
or even the shy guy you've known from school,
Searching for lively words to speak my truth
but truthfully my words are dead.

Distracted
by beauty I seem unable to hold
Only really for me to watch and behold
eyes still youthful of passion
But as the rest of me it's but passive.

Action
is what I should take
But I erase the thought, not wanting a mistake,
still like a wet fish caught by a hook
I'm hoping for this to be that catch.

Crush
me over babe
It's the exact crush giving me no escape
The very rock holding me down rolls
over in a rush.

It's a crush, I hope doesn't bring me harm
if I ever again fall in love.

tell me if i wasn't drunk,
as you took off your shirt
i was seeing double
-chastise me for a bit ill thought,
as i'm easily falling in love to be love sick,
so needy as the shaking feeling
by my knees

the ecstasy; a love drug,
bitten by the tooth of desire, on my fragile
skin; by a love bug
so insert me in your happy place,
in between the gates of love and pleasure
the left and right of your hinged legs

i'm unhinged; sort of crazy in love
crazy enough to admit i'm in love
so admit me to a psychiatric ward.

What if I finally came to all of the places,
to feel eventually complacent
In between seeing a lackluster example
of what it takes to lack love;
Would I be lacking in the appeals
of peeling pieces of my skin to this former apple of an Eve,
The apple of my eye, bitten by the marks of the
world' dogs; with an echo to their every bark?

But what man isn't referred to a dog,
with just another territory to mark
As we're ******* by those trying to be just a man;
with mannerisms of an ill-mannered upbringing,
Did you at least question their gestures with a little reasoning?

We are littered by the stains of this society;
as the illiterate, misread by a literature written
by history's cruelty in a castration anxiety
Even to those cut from the same cloth,
how much have we lost for the cost of just playing another's part?

I'm in part, lost in the standards of this world,
that would cancel my tongue for speaking something so bold
As I've lost the voice in my lungs, and the hairs of my chest;
to honestly have the heart of bravery; as it now appears to be bald

And I would make the fortunes for these misfortuned,
fortunately for the lookers-on, it makes me an abstract portrait
So I'll just portray what I know best from my many teachings,
reasoning, understanding, valuing, and treasuring
To relate to those I have no relations to, to find their meanings


       In politeness,
          I am not one to share any other man's likeness
            Still to rather seek peace in chaos of all this society
               To not find myself caught in between this culture violence

The fantasies of love; I fancy myself
a glove— holding onto old befores, and
wearing out the test of time

A girl I would proudly call mine
Bribe my way into making a memory my bride; two
seductions of the tied ties, sleeping together at the odds night
And to wake up with a reasonable excuse to be tired

But I've tried to be like a peck of flightless birds—
no reason to fly south like the rest. As I encouraged
her to rest under my wing, upon my smothered talk in
her *******

Two crushing walls on my face in between thighs,
and her ****** being a tall tower close to rise
But I despise the extra seconds it takes to build up
her high. And why like vampires ****, is because
they don't use much of their tongue

But by the batting of her eyes, she is close to come,
to a point of returning a tip of this favourable fun

Cupid’s aim was off, he lost one of his arrows
in the wrong heart he shot; I'd had my fair share –
of these scars painted on my skin; all the best
intentions being lost, while adding value to someone
just to add up the cost of their love…

Cupid’s aim was off, he forgot to wear his glasses
while on the job; giving me extra weight thinking
about my past – all the pain left behind, we all need to
move forward, but I still want to kick Cupid right in
the ****!

Sunny days could still remind me of so much hope,
Smells like the sweet natural honey I tasted from my finger tips. So sweet it was just too hard to cope.
And I can't help it if that love song plays on the old radio I find myself to cry,
It's really a bit of me being silly, I barely could explain the reason of that to myself so don't ask me why.

And the nature of my soul is a changing season,
Often it's a bit shaky when I lose myself to sin and I eat it up for no apparent reason.
If I could tame my thoughts to stay close to a cleaner side, surely I would.
I've proven myself many to be new greatest to something yet to be. How this feels so good.

My cure to what breaks me down though sometimes never really works,
It's something that fulfilled it's purpose, so I can rest my soul. Rest now, a seat for it, as it sits.

Cure,
To what was stinks my life like manure.
Cure,
To what has brought me down so many times though being so few.

CURE FOR IT ALL...

Alone in such times of de-stress
Emotion drowning at the cost of what I can't feel anymore.
Tortured mind of so young.
Depressed.

Through the days of life I learnt, perfection is irrelevant and therefore non existent.
Minds so many easily bought by the fancy colours of their screens.
A relay on a track running around closer to the edge of Death. A cold mistress she is, eating through our time through wasteful routines.

Alone at the fact all those I love sometimes look down on me.
Wishing to take the world by a storm, but instead I have it's overcast with a cloud on me.

What's a cure for loneliness for those of depression
A factual feeling of sanity with a mind poisoned by world's venom of prey to a lonely heart. Searching deep for the impression of the expression.  

Impression of hope where it lies.
Though with my world falling on me, the pieces I try to rebuild.

For a cure for loneliness is all that eats through me but keeps my eye so fresh.
To gaze through the troubles of a world to peep something of bless.

For that of the cure for loneliness.

The curiosity of young; is the danger of creativity,
discovery, but at times ignorance.

The fat cat...

Is it curious of me to ask a favour with no return,
I owe the plenty of their time I wasted. Chasing the
clock round and round these late working hours.

The fat cat in a hat, told his kitten to go buy a bat...

Is it curious of me to want what others have,
the happiness it brings them, I too want it's share.
Despite at the expense of my appreciation, I want it all for free.

The fat cat in a hat, told his kitten to go buy a bat,
Chasing a rat...

Is it curious of me to want a love I can't afford,
this love for the things in this world. What fame can
get you, whether in the honest success, or the success
of selling your soul.

The fat cat in a hat, told his kitten to go buy a bat,
Chasing a rat hiding under the mat...

Is it curious of me to get my eyes stuck on the sky,
I'm waiting for Heaven to fall onto this living hell.
How long will I have to wait longer, for the Lords return?

The fat cat in a hat, told his kitten to go buy a bat,
Chasing a rat hiding under the mat. She was battling with her
careless curiosity in daily combat.

Is it curious of me to wonder what exactly killed the cat,
so many lives wasted or not; dependent upon the right curiosity.
We're all curious beings; whether small or big. A question of
where you curiosity leads you to.

The fat cat in a hat, told his kitten to go buy a bat,
Chasing a rat hiding under the mat. She was battling with her
careless curiosity in daily combat.

Ordered the bat online, it came with the vat. The bat was
black in matte, to go chase a rat all around their flat.  
She was a sort of brat; with an annoyance that flew around
like a gnat.  So inquisitive of people's affairs; and nobody
likes that.

In the end, curiosity did **** that cat.

The egotistic, unrealistic quotes of thinking about bars,
With the obvious prison of your caged mind.
It’s a force enforcing me to rhyme at every line
So it makes every write a question of, what rhymes are left,
And which rhyme of the bunch seems right to align
It gets so out of hand; out of control, to seem like a lyrical man
But lyrically— I don’t follow a plan, or a rhyme scheme
As random as a Tuesday dream. We don’t get to choose what we see
No scripted story, to detail life’s most critical scenes
No make believe, of the way we live. As in the ways to stay alive,
Is to survive in life’s performance; that’s always live
I’m cursed to rhyme

Growing kids, calling each other “bra”
A mark of the memory on the back. Our favourite line in strap
Of really how we loved to rap(talk)
As keen as a king, to ***** people off royally
A bald man could say it boldly in bold—of all the lies he sold
But I doubt he’d have a heir; and that’s not so fair
But of the lies he sold; comes it’s fare
And that’s just a small example of the chaos inside
Inside my mind; a few seconds of exercise to stand the test of time
I’m cursed to rhyme

Hey there Mr Rhythm; I’ll introduce you to Miss Flow
Marrying the two, but don’t diss their force
As to reach the terms of getting them to divorce
One is a gulf of words; finding the best stroke in her golf course
For I know enough words…no never mind
There has to be a better rhyme to find, as I’m cursed to rhyme

The fourth stanza—a search for an answer
As only the few of my hand had of some. I’m quite handsome
The sensitive guy, who loves to write, and all and all
Always cursed to rhyme

As the curtains draw to a close,
it's always best to mind your manners,
Clear your throat before you start
to cough and cause a stir.
But if clearing your throat was
a punishable offense,
You might as well brighten up
the room with a warm smile.

Cyle a waste of the wasteful mind blinded in the troubles of the world.
Lesser known to the cause of what the world follows for he follows his heart.

By a compass of wisdom, reliving through the footprints of the wiser men before.
What is spoken in mind has nothing of the words to say, but it is still not limited by such for such is not law.

Cyle a waste of the doubtful heart living upon the negatives it positively takes in.
Why live upon it if it kills us inside.

But for the sake of pride we'll fail to admit of how far we've fallen,
For no man wishes to be seen as lost unless by unseeing eyes.

So speaking to inner man within me to ignore such and following of these lies.

Cycle a soul feeling soulless on the emptiness he's made full within him.
For in time itself he has become of the many wasted hours,
Surely where is the time for him to be living the time of his life.
Why lay on the chopping board of the world's standards, openly ready to be cut down by it's knife.

Cyle the three of such a man for him to be free.
For of such man nothing is lost in the wake for he can still find the desire to dream.

I sat there waiting for myself;
patiently, so anxiously- my thoughts between beauty,
love, ambiguity; a tragedy and all manners of happenings.
While we were both picturing the inkling of make-up
***- but we lacked the foundation of making love.

Holding onto the fear of more arguments
afterwards, so tightly like a hug. I was choked
out for most of my words, fitting over the hand
of fabrications, like a perfectly fitting glove.

It all became a tacit question
between the both of us: “this time, will we make
an effort at making love, or is it another downwards
spiral of us just being so down to ****?”

Flip me over as a cassette tape,
I'm on the side of A but I'm thinking of a plan B
Could be me just trying to skip through tracks,
of that train of thought you had for me this week
But I'm a bit too weak to say how I really feel in vein;
you had left a few marks under my skin
-that was Monday

I'll give a little input for the sound of your output,
an old kind of love putting a tip into a port
I'm the earphones to the sound of your ecstasy,
a little tune to sync to the lyrics of love in a few words
A key to unlock it all, takes a little time knowing each other;
and playing all of those right chords
-that was Tuesday

Spinning your head over a disc changer in my car,
"who even still has those kind of things"
Those kind of things to drive away as far as you want,
and the best kind of songs to play for your heart
The sounds of love, roaming around in a perfect nowhere,
grabbing your hand to take us right there
that was Wednesday

Let's record the best experiences, to make even better experiences,
pressing into the next day; play it out with the volume up
And I bet the back button broke when we feel like
we're too far to go back- so why should we even stop
that was a short Thursday

But I'm always a bit free to mix things up,
mixtapes sitting on my side table
Some compilations of each other's favourite pieces,
I was too busy to hear a word you said, while I listening
to all of our kisses
okay, that was a freaky Friday

Trying to match a beat with love,
I remember when your eyes caught me in a trap- a snare
And my heart was making a loud noise to a rhythm of a drum,
bells to the ringing desire I had **** on my skin
Trading old skins for new ones;
I was left battered but still hadn't had enough
now that was a shell of a Saturday

And it's by this end, I end up feeling like a week was too short,
but it was a whole week of events made into a day
Sunday, Sunday, it had to be a Sunday to remind me
of how this tune will soon play again

Sending me tender kisses like airbags, softening the blows to my
heart; your service with a smile radiates warmth as I stand in line,
eager to sketch the portrait of our love— chasing after sparks, once
your heart starts to believe you’ve found the one.

Making daylight savings – to awaken with the sun, its golden rays
dance upon your cheek, radiating warmth that yearns to envelop me.
Yet, I ponder— will a touch more of this brilliance consume me, or
shall I remain alert– do I stay woke,

or…

spend most of the day in a daydream, cherishing this infatuation,
cradling it close to my heart, preserving our moments for a future
where courage blooms within me, allowing me to finally ask you to
be my wife.

“Perhaps yes, or maybe not” – I’ve pluck the petals of my choices,
now lingering on the tenth flower.

                                             I think I'm in love with you Daisy.

Here you are, and there I go,
a cassette of love; sometimes I flip you off
Still on the other side, a lot of anything goes
as an entry by the look of your eyes, right into your soul
Two of which are open doors, as I'm open to being yours

I don't claim to by any kind of superman,
that tends to turn into a superficial kind of love
And that's more of being way too suspicious,
always trying to supersede all that I have above
But I'm not always on top of things; especially
on one of my many lows, trying to hold onto everything
Everything slips out of an overprotective opinion, in a white glove;
and you probably recognize that common love sickness
A common kind of flu, when love is in the air as just a common
feeling; over the ceiling, to when I was close to a heaven above

But even if I didn't believe in angels,
I'd kiss the wings of the only one I knew
It would be you, but you wouldn't believe me if I said I love you
so much, that much of it annoys me; thinking about you
You flew into my room, and lifted the butterflies in my stomach,
netting my eyes, at first gaze to know you were a catch
Whether to say, "thanks," or "*******," for what you've done,
all I'm left to say is,

                        "I love you, I love you, ****** it I love you"

Got ****, got ****, can't  be taking pictures with legends.
**** right, that girl's legs
were out in public with all those curls and those  edges.

Who the hell being trying to cut me down for last coming week,
****, who's probably on my next hit list, trying to waste my energy. **** right I was feeling so weak.
But who's next, I never really got too tired of this,
****, I never shot so high in the air just to go miss.

And ain't life fair when I'm claiming myself to be a nobody else.
****, I only touched that forbidden Candy once, now my *** is getting beat by two thousand belts.

How everybody told me greatest was a long trip, can't I just change the route.
Don't really be the formal type, but I had to play the role and force myself to suit.

****, ****, ****, **** right.

Depression...
angry vultures pecking at my mind

Depression...
crying glass out of my eyes

Depression...
a pretty portrait with only black lines

Depression...
defeating the purpose to fall in love

Depression...
street roses red of mistrust

Depression...
scars hidden under an innocent cut

Depression...
suicidal thoughts as an only option

Depression...
OCD with a lot of precautions

Depression...
misbehaving to fill a little noticed

Depression...
irritating as a bleeding nose

Depression...
an excuse non excused of sickness

Depression...
told to get over yourself and weakness

Depression...
coping with life by stress eating

Depression...
looking for another high in an addiction

Depression...
sounds so wrong when you're Christian

Depression, depression, depression, **** this depression

I don't make time for myself; making time for you,
be dead inside, when I die for you. Die for two, lie for you;
in the bed of death without the truth. The rain in the gutter,
pouring myself; but through a tight funnel. The end of a dark journey, at the other side of that tunnel. We don't believe enough; that we love each other.

I don't mean to be rude; but seem so crude. In the dullness of
yesterday's grey mood. It reigns on me, from above the rule of
thoughts; as ***** as the mud. Thinking of you; guilty of the pleasures. Holding my breath when we kiss, to fill my chest with pressure. Love isn't perfect, but with the lessons we get a little better.

So I had to write this letter...

The words in cursive; complimenting all your curves. The edges of the sword, piercing my heart. Your tongue is always so sharp. I seen a couple clouds shaped like hearts; pierced by the lightening at night. Which gave me a fright, of all the possibilities that might.

I stink of doubt, under the half bottle of cologne to impress your clout. The trends of love; on insta screens, telling me how to love. But why am I spilling my guts? Cause those deep feelings I have, just leaves me with enormous cuts.

Kumbaya; in the sarcastic unity we portray. Round the burning camp fire of love; hoping it burns into the day. The passion of *** after arguments. Leaving too many things in the air, just to face turbulence.

But let me stop right now, before I bleed out my pen. But what if there's more for me to write even after then? I hate that we failed as lovers, but are somehow drifting away as friends.

****! I did it again...

I'm the
best dancer
in the dark
Under the stars
of my dreams
and moves of
light feet

The moon and the stars are awake early tonight, singing a rather familiar song to me,
Where is the sun, probably playing hide and seek behind the mountain tops. That we all can see.
So let's dance around the Heaven's night skies well we all still young,
Before the sun comes around to bring another day and more age, before we lose all this time of fun.

Better tell the moon and the stars to sing it once again,
We'll all be singing together in Heaven one day, I just don't know when.

You count the stars, I'll kiss the moon,
you lose the time, I'll pray right now, till we both gazing at sunlight's noon.
Then you count the stars some more I'll wish my moon a goodnight,
We'll both lose the time but let's pray about it for a little while, I know we'll be quite alright.

And you better be telling the moon and the stars to sing it once again,
Because we'll all be singing together in Heaven one day, I just don't know when.

While we wait for that day, I'll light up the skies with this one match stick at hand,
you pick your star, I'll light the flame and we'll fill the skies more than ocean's sand.
Dance around the moon a couple of times, till the sun comes out,
till we grow so tired, till our feet, they ache, till the Sun knows what we all about.
From Sunday to another Sunday, we'll do circles around the moon and the stars, till the Heaven's would feel like joining us,
Then we'll dance some more and some more again, till all our time has come to pass.

Till we all telling the moon and the stars to sing it once again,
Because we'll all be singing together in Heaven one day, for our Father God knows the time, he surely knows when.

And time may chase us down from far behind, but we'll be too far ahead, And we may have one night to do this all, but I would rather do this a thousand times instead .
So I'll enjoy it all, all that it is,
And we'll be dancing in the moon's and star's tune, so come now, everybody please.

Tell the moon and stars once again to sing that song,
We'll all have a party in Heaven,
We'll all be moons and stars,
We'll all have a go to sing along.

Till all our earthly time is done, when our bodies have turned to dust,
The Heaven's skies will sing, so in these few moments, we'll make our moment last.

Dancing around, putting on a show.
Baby I'm tired to watch, wanna be part of the act. But these feet fall out of place without the rythme they know.

Thinking through it all, my heart your treasure would you bury it deep.
Or do you keep it close to yours. Break it's chest and you'd force me to weep.

Remember thinking I needed a million dollars and pretty girl to care for me.
Got more from you. Lesser of that money I have but you still there for me.

And feeling like the walls could tear down if I did you wrong by your screams.
I can't hurt myself so why do that to you. It's my insecurities all as it seems.

Scared off more if I wrote in the wrong books of your family,
If both sides didn't get along that would be the slow knife killing me.

Still at the ****** of Love, untouched by any other flesh
Often so it's tempting me in a bit of hurt when thinking of you differently under your dress.

Dancing on my wishes at an edge.
Blushing more than I can control. Skin like my inner self, turning red.

Perhaps I'm scared.

Of the day we become one with anxiety of doing you wrong that we split.
Just wish to do you right even in my wrong. My love of you is plenty even in it's small bit.

And due to these thoughts I'm missing you more than I ever could. I'm vulnerable.
In memories of you. Stuck in my head you're so memorable.

Baby I need you. Scary enough I'm not in denial.
Taking a longer route to you, over the pain and trial.

Down to earth girl, you're closer to the ground than I wish to be.
Screaming in my head of how I earned you with such doubts within me.

Dancing on the wishes. My feet both left, overstepping that I'll be tripping.
Falling more for you, waiting to hit the ground. Heart's in love, overjoyed, jumping and skipping.

So baby I'll follow in your steps to try keep up. Forgive me for the mistakes.
Still if I have to mess up a few times to better myself for you, so shall I do whatever it takes.

Black mirror tears; crying in the dark—
reflecting on things about life, throughout late nights,
Buried talk with an assortment of people nowadays;
enduring their dead conversations; also texts feeling so late.

Overbearing much— bearing on regrets that weigh heavy
on a heart; a heart only heavy by weights you choose to carry.

So, do you carry on carrying that weight; the baggage
of your eyes, carries around judgments as more court cases.

“Just in case, I need some old evidence to prove
my worth,” you say, just in case.

Afterwards cracking that mirror in the dark—how do you
really see yourself any better, if you keep hiding in the dark?

Black valley—
a sheath of dark attar
under the fullest moon. I find so beautiful
in it’s darkening as my spirit’s rind.
Extruded by a forceful wind call,—
hoping to run into that, solely being innocence.
But is it black; liken to a colour that seems so
unclean? Washing bare hands twice; but I can’t wash what I am.

A dark masterpiece,—pretty as many flowers I am,
I am this dark flower. I shine brightest in the dark.

Love songs inside the dark,
of all my misguided
thoughts;
wishing I could kiss you
in the dark,
for the taste of light.

Darkest places I know,
the corner end of my soul
Depression, anxiety and fears
is all I even known.
Amongst all peers,
the loudest kid in the silence of being alone.
Guess I was on my own,
with these negative feelings I own.

It's a dark place
that shadows have another.
Growing up, not shown
how to fight my demons by my father.
Seemed foolish for loving everybody,
giving all I had and I am.
Tell me is that why I feel like Mr Nobody?

There's a dark place,
much darker than the empty nights
Beyond death or feeling alive,
not even safer to be inside.

Your greatest enemy,
is all the thoughts on your mind.
I've only seen the brim of light
as the shadow left behind.
Friends,
are people I feel don't know me,
they must ignore me.
Those who overlook me,
but I know it's really just me.
For all the problems I have,
I tend not to see.

All the dark places I've made
the foreshadows forming out my brain.
Never one to be plain,
but also the one who wasn't the same.
Out of the bunch,
the dark kid with a light heart.

Just like art,
by the tormented artist's craft.
I seem to be raised in the dark,
the dark is really just my past.

Her skin was dark as what you
see when you close your eyes
And in the night, all you could see was
the painted white of her eyes
The tint of an artificial smile,
while she was a fly by night kind of gal
A shadow behind it's shadow, knowing
she'd always have a dark past

Her hair; black as the blanket of night
covering the sun. An heir to her throne,
who was her light-skinned son,- ironically
But it must be so commonly,
that the dark gives a reason for light
And from a dark place;
a womb was that, that birthed a new life

She braided her heir, to prepare
him for this twisted kind of life
Crowned him with thorns, so to
know, it hurts to think so sharp
As she hung a neckpiece around his neck,
to compliment his youthful charm
Bathed in him in the sweetest of flowers,
to nectar him in love
And tattooed stars on his back,
so that a thousand angles would always have his back

Tell me if this wasn't love,
or  just another dark ritual, of a dark queen mother.

Hotel ***—of neighbours dealing in services, buying into
the idea of momentary love by the high purchases. It's like
swerving in traffic, avoiding real love and looking for some action.
Well out here relaxing, feels **** fun. Sort of tragic, but these are the ways things happen. Imagines.

On the other side, the creep behind the hole in the wall.
The married husband, setting up a *******. She's a young girl,
and a ****** to all—of what it costs to make it big. He's not so big, but will drive into her like a heavy rig. Pay her off, call a cab to
take her back home. Rinse himself, spray a little cologne to cover
up his immorals. And switch his clothes. What she doesn't know, won't hurt his wife at all. Sort of tragic, but these are the ways things happen. Imagines.

But she's in another room downstairs, getting tongue licks
downstairs—downtown. The young man isn't to proud, at least
with the fact he wasn't the first one pointing her down his south.
The fresh taste of adultery in their mouth—his pants are
half down. His business is hanging out; ready to close the deal of
an interesting affair. Then he'll kiss his girlfriend back at their house.
I know she's cheating on me too. Sort of tragic, but these are the ways things happen. Imagines.

The cheating girlfriend is actually over eating in another room
alone. With shoes off, to stand herself and her weight.
Running to the bathroom with a finger down her throat.
A little choke, and upbringing those distasteful words. Her body
isn't her worth, and doesn't feel like the one she deserves.
Sort of tragic, but these are the ways things happen. Imagines.

These are the dark rooms, of all the stories in my head.
A couple stories high, to keep me up on my bed. They turn into
dreams, or have been premonitions for a later reality as it seems.

                                                         ­            Who really knows?

When your skin is darker than your past, you'll find
yourself instinctively seeking shade, avoiding the scorching
rays of the sun that seem to tarnish its complexion.
Its once radiant appearance now tinged with the remnants
of the flames, forever leaving a mark.
You may feel that all your imperfections persist, yearning
to be acknowledged and embraced, yet often remaining
unnoticed by the oblivious eyes of the world.
You, my dear, have become a surreal spectacle, captivating
the gaze of many with your unique blend of beauty and vulnerability.

In this collective exchange of glances, you discover
a remarkable unity, a deep connection that transcends
mere superficiality. It is as if each shared look weaves
together the threads of our lives, binding us in a profound
state of matrimony, where understanding and acceptance intertwine.

As we stand together, lost in the enigmatic origins of life,
it becomes apparent that your skin holds a story, an
uninterrupted lineage that stretches back through time.
It is a tapestry of ancestral struggles and triumphs, a testament
to resilience and fortitude. And like the night that envelops
the world, your dusky guardian complexion bears witness
to the strength and beauty that lies within.

But let us not be judged solely by what meets the eye.
Peel back this outer layer, delve deeper into who we truly are,
and you will discover hearts that beat with the same
tenderness, dreams that flourish within the obscure depths of
our souls. Don't let the label of "African child,"
confine us to a predetermined destiny; instead, let it be
a celebration of our heritage, a recognition of the richness
and diversity that flows through our veins.

So, my dear, as we navigate our way through this complex
and ever-changing world, let your skin be a canvas,
not only for the painted white of eyes that might cast
judgments, but for the genuine smiles that radiate from within.
Embrace your darkness, your unique hue, and let it stand
as a testament to the vibrant spirit that resides in the
depths of your being.

Darling you a candy store, you a candy store,
And sometimes feel insecure, I feel insecure,
But I want you more, yes I want you more.
And you make me cry again, you make me cry again,
So I have to dry my eyes once more ,
Because darling you a perfect ten, yes a perfect ten.

You are shining star, yes that's who you are,
Your a happy dream, yes a happy dream, take my heart so far.
And I'll love you more, make you feel secure,
Hold you close to me, feel your heart with richness so you never poor, no you never poor.

And you are a shooting star, lighting up my skies like a colour dream,
So come sit right next to me, we'll both pray up to him.
And will lose the time, but I'm glad you mine,
You make my heart feel more than fine..

So I bless you now, let Lord the bless you now,
May he count your days just to add more  time, never have to ask him how.
Because I  love you like this, yes love you like this,
And surely your the first one I miss, the first one I miss....

Brush of grass,
the emptying winds of a clearing sky
I sit on my feet crossed under new Sun,
—a beautiful scene. Darling as you and I.

The first love,
best remembered that was found in youth
I covered you under the rest of my Love,
—a pillow covering. A trade of tooth.

Questing heroism,
searching for a knight of a tale of fairy
Dragons flaming voice he fights for a Princess,
—an expressive word. Impressions do vary.

So many ways to portray my love,
that of which strait tongue is narrow broken in two.
But in these complex feelings towards,
—I'll say it in simple. Darling I love you.

Darling of most.
Do you hear an awaking, a world unlike we know.
Open your heart widely for Heaven's knocking at your Door.

Heaven's moving mountains. Where's your place.
Stars charting a course. Lord where is our space.

Words of unjust, days of doing wrong.
Hearts a mess, feels hard to sing a song.

Truly tired of most. Lost track of feet.
Pain be our memory, soon to forget. Shed tears closer to your seat.

Glance Sunrises darling, rising in the North. A setting of your Heart.
  Dawns of He painting days of life. Be the works of True Art.

Trumpets & loud Drums blaring through the air.
Heart of you and I a complimenting song. Lord you move, we'll be meeting you there.

Darling of most.
We all be crying,
Constantly be of lying.
Do my best of always trying.

Darling, you know of man trying to do everything on his own.

But can't be the type of being that perfect
Put him in the center of it all, you & I could find it worth it.

Darling of most,
The Heaven's doing wondrous things. Dawn of Love.
Seek hope in my eye, follow directions looking to He above.

Dawn of Love. Wake to it every morning.
Best chapters of my life, of such Love story.
Do it all of most under His Glory.

To dream of about suicide is a wage to not wake up dead, a struggle
to rise from the depths of despair. In the heart of a collapsing
mansion, I find myself amidst a vast courtyard, pondering if this
opulence will ever be mine. A magnificent tennis court lies before me,
its fragile barrier barely containing the grotesque monsters lurking
beyond. They cling to the fence, their claws poised to strike, yet I can’t
help but grin, for these fiends are but reflections of my own tortured
psyche.

Where shall I find solace in dreams, when each dream is just a false
awakening loop; each threshold leads me further into a deeper
threshold? On the sixth day of my futile escape, I realize my
confinement is not of brick and mortar, but of the haunting messages
buried within the restless slumber I can never fully embrace.

                                     This life is a false narrative!

And in a dream;
I was just its distant memory
Far from the things I knew,
I had opened my eyes to see'
It wasn't a dream- I was just clueless
To my own reality, and lost in my own mind

.... Oh it was such a splendid daydream

When is the morning
I too rise with the sun
Hidden behind the stars,
captivated by the moon
The entire universe knows who we are.

Children of most high,
dreamers all alike
Those of us whose dreams touch the sky.
Dreams will never die,
only if we put them to rest
Let them be like the stars,
Strive to be the brightest of all the rest.

The ends of space and time
seem nonexistent,
One end is the start of something new,
even from broken pieces
Sky's the limit, even in days of feeling blue.

As the days set
and surely rise again
Set your hearts down from worry,
soon rise to be brave
Follow suit in every single one of your days.

A story of spheres,
I'm wondering who fathered who; in the darkest
kisses all under this moon.
Oh, is the truth as clear under the sun, in the eyes
of the lonely son? Daily are the games of fun, running
away from troubles. Chasing a shot to success, like we're
all chasing a gun.

But I'm into changing thought. Like the days
that must come and go. Everything changes under
the sun that kisses the Earth.

But in all the wonders of the sky, and it's reason
and wonder. It all begs this question of, "why."
In this night, his lover is so bright, gazing upon
all of her lightness. She slowly fades out of his sight.

Wedded to his only bride, days setting,
kissing her goodnight; every time he brings
her a good morning. Saying hello as she's saying
goodbye; hurting him more in their only first sight.

Feels like a similar to my life.

"You're a pretty flower I can't hold,"
he sighs, just pondering at her marvel,

"Of the sweetest of things to behold;
you're always the one touched by my light,"
his love reflects, watching it all go to another.

"Why so, must I be allowed to watch;
as you're shining it upon my brother,"
as the story of spheres goes.

Alas, I'm often the son of the sun, in these daylight
thoughts. Anger burning my skin's surface;
but what comes in between happiness and self worth?
Successes of things I'm still chasing from birth, and
running around in three interlinked circles.
I just go back to myself in the first verse.

Again into daylight thoughts.

So today I asked myself if everybody else felt like me, we all share some similarities right?
We have a a bit of darkness in our life that needs a shinning, a bright light.
If you called your enemies would they answer?
If that pretty lady passed by, could you look forward and move on, could you pass her.

Day to day we almost all the same,
In the sense we have a dream in mind yet they all so different and unique like everyone's name.
But we are the sounds of a radio station playing all different sounds and tracks,
Would a person I only met today guide me, would we have each others backs.
If I jumped into a dangerous action,
If I put my life on the line for no reason, would he stop that reaction.

Day to day we all going ****** in our heads when the moment calls,
Or is that just me, sorry I should of kept that as my secret, not something to add to my many flaws.
But I know someone out there would nod their head to one of the many things I've said,
We would all fall asleep in an empty bed and pray we never wake up dead.

But that's just my day to day, that's all I can say,
Maybe it's yours too, don't really know, but let's just live this life in our own kind of way.

Stuck in the places'
Stuck in all of the memories,
Memos or diaries, making a mental note
To a metal heart of steel you somehow stole

And maybe I would like to see it all
A perfect view of you; by this naked eye
Of your most vulnerable parts
The box, the pillows and haunch,
Buried in, resting peacefully with all I've carried for the day,
All of which is now left behind

What limits us to the night
But just time running another marathon on the clock?
The running sweat of an out of breath experience,
My thoughts tied with yours, and tightened by these feelings

Triple D's,

Die for feeling so alive in you
Dye my past experiences in the colours of our skin's touch
Dining on you like my very last.

                      ALL SO NECCESARRY, AND A MUST

Petals wilted fast
—breeze carried it far away,
all lost in memories

Right here, in between Heaven and Hell

right here, is the world – and some dream of owning the world, but
it already owns parts of your mind. And when someone asked me
when I wanted to die, I saw the hurt right in their eyes when I said,
"right now, would be fine."  Though it's been a while, since I’ve
thought about suicide – but even with all the maturity, some days
that glass of wine, doesn't feel so fine. The glass looks half empty;
probably because we first have to whine. Could life be like a girl, with
a big chest; do you still know how to say it with your chest? Calling
a ***** a *****; maybe I just need a love to find– digging it out my
heart for someone, just to call them mine.

But love isn't gold as much; it’s silver nowadays – where you come
second after the bad boy who first broke their heart. And that’s still if
it’s to your own best of luck; if they hadn’t gone through a bunch–
wanting your love now, only when you’re out of love. Or is it meant
to be out of luck – four letters to that word, “Love?” Where the match
you find, is like a fresh match striking the box – it has to go through a
few sparks! Maybe the complimenting four letter word is, “Loss;”
gaining the worth of something now, after the few times you had it
for a loss.

But I don’t know what I want, I’m just dealing with a lot!