Had a girl with the face of the dawn,
my biggest failure was failing to leave her alone.

From her small giggle my heart had cheer,
my words lost, knees weak as sweat broke out as she was near.

A tiny whisper of her voice knocks the walls of the heart,
as the hint of her heavenly scent made angels cry.
The Heavens looked down upon such beauty so pure that no man could deny.

A glance of her many curves made your mind swerve in endless motions,
the thick of her hair was black as night and blew carelessly in the wind's whispers.
You'd fail to gaze upon her and not catch emotions. And you'd pray to all gods that surely existed to make her your Mistress.

But Mistress Beauty was never the easiest of catch.
She'd teased you with a tender hug resting her tender ******* on you, gently making you wish such a feeling could last.

Still even if you played your cards right, your deck would still be empty.
And by the next hand you'd play your last. For she's wise to the game of love and she's won that plenty.

But I was that lucky kid on the block,
a nerd to the eyes of many without much to give. But still trying to give a lot.

Still luck would have me, as I have her.
And often thinking about her by my side left my thoughts with only a blur.
But I was the guy she preferred.

So I had a girl, a Mistress of Beauty.
And though she's long gone to another man's hand, I'm still glad.
For I was first to have her hand, and glad that she knew me.

So to you Mistress Beauty. You were the only one I preferred.

We're rocking Sunday best
for all of Friday's events,
Calling everyone Auntie & Uncle,
without any of the relations.
       That's how we were raised

Calling some a boss,
mostly those who didn't
even once employ us.
We don't get angry, we just
tell you, you've made us cross.
       That's how we were raised

The adults talk of old days,
telling kids to go outside & play.
Stuck at afternoon tea party dates,
Feeling shy when mums come
with a purse lunchbox;
To take home some of the cakes.
         That's how we were raised

Taking selfies at funerals;
the same adults you never met,
Say the used to change your diapers.
'Don't you remember me,'
that statement seems to be the usual.
         That's how we were raised

Raised mixed in a world
of so many pretty colours.
I got the spice from my mother,
the pride of my father,
And the division from forefathers.

Fitting in with the blacks,
seem relatable with the whites.
But we're not always the same;
if I'm facing the true facts.
       That's not how we were raised

But how I was raised
is never going to change.
With age, you learn to accept,
And for the next-generation;
start a better story on a fresh page.

And how they mock you still,
but to use your name to sight being righteous,
of their famous words to say, "I'm doing God's will"

The scales are peeled off my eyes—I see all
those stars, like the past fallen angels.
Falling stars, falling stars; as they brightly mock God.

To make you seem odd—oddly enough to say
they do it out of love. Out of expression, speaking proudly
public of what Biblical reading calls ungodly transgressions.
It's just another form of weapon—Lucifers walking this earth,
in innocent clothes. Church clothes of expensive taste;
letting themselves be praised by using your name.

The name of your Son; to profit off the prophet.
Marking mockery, in calling you an inspiration,
but conspiring to sound like they're doing your will.
But still, they mock you without ill. To use your name to
sight being righteous, of their famous words to say,
"I'm doing God's will"

Mockingbirds, those beautiful creatures with feathers
as delicate as a whisper, find themselves trapped within
the confines of a cage, their melodic songs
silenced by the prison that surrounds them.

As they spin on the scale, their movements resemble
the graceful twirls of your hair, each strand reflecting the
music that dances in your soul. The sight leaves me awestruck,
my gaze fixated on the cracks in your eyes.
They tell tales of a life filled with both joy and sorrow, and
I can't help but be captivated by the depth within them.

But amidst this enchantment, I cannot help but feel
a pang of sadness for the little birdie that flew into a
deceptive net, its tiny body possibly breaking its delicate neck.
This mere accident, this twist of fate, has brought a sense
of loss and pain. In an attempt to make amends, to reclaim a
semblance of what was lost, I will venture back to the store.

I will seek out the mockingbird's freedom,
buying back its worth with the hopes of restoring
the balance that has been disrupted.

For in this act, I hope that I can bring a ray of light
to your world, honoring the beauty that lies within you
and the harmony that the mockingbirds sought to emulate.

May this small gesture of returning the caged bird symbolize
a larger journey towards reclaiming the freedom and worth
that was once taken away.

Mother earth, oh mother earth; may I cherish
these precious moments of such an outstanding woman
— in these delicate grains of sand slipping through an eye’s hourglass.
For all will pass by as quickly as the gentle whisper, but the love of a
mother is undying, in all its outspoken words in these countless days.

Even as time dances forward, I fervently hope
that through it all, my dearest mother, shall I always
remember your love, joy, and peace, withstanding the test
of these countless days.

Carelessly putting your smile on display, as the portrait
of constantly looking towards brighter days.
A mother’s radiant happiness, becomes the focal point,
brightening up even the darkest corners of these countless days.

For if I could express all the thankfulness, I have of you
each day, it would all be countless in these countless days.
Happy Mother’s Day.

Dancing in their shadows
The past, the future are both dark mirages
As the present is the light of day;
You see clearly and enjoy that moment
Our pasts are forgotten, the futures unknown,
All we have is now, all we have is just a moment

                                       ...More or less

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.

Worthwhile moments printed in memory,
the good, bad and moderate at times,
all that we have now; is all that we can
cherish.

I'm blessed for knowing you all,
the known and strangers. I must have
heard and seen a thousand stories,
I've been blessed to be a part of them all,
even if it was by quick interaction.

Your moment was my moment,
we've made moments together,
a worthwhile experience; we're all
the moments waiting to happen.

Let's enjoy the moment.

Now who am I to tell you why,
that money you chasing you got your vision messed up in your eye.
Man, your greed is growing, chasing down the money, that makes it your only motive,
The money you chasing, got full amount of power like a **** locomotive.

Oh no look, now you're blind right in the eye,
Now you looking to us like we all got answers to your big why.
And you paid the young girl by the corner, to **** you up dry,
Now she's in the gutter with tears in eyes all about to cry.

But tell me why, who am I to tell you that, the money you're chasing is all but imported.
And who am I to tell you why, all those fake people you hang with love for you was just all but resorted.

Better pay those bills for all those expensive thrills,
Because sorry brother all that money does all the cheap kills.

So let me give you a word of advice young blood of mine, better proceed the money with much caution,
And **** it Me, stop rubbing the money in your skin like fancy smelling lotion.

_

The legacy of humanity hangs precariously
Upon their own blinded whims of fortune –
While faith is seasoned by the labour invested,
In the banquet of faith’s supplication.

Yet instead of harmonious voices, their frictional
Howls intertwine as a dog chasing after cars–
Those parked must seem a feast to the naïve,
Whose journey is dictated by the drive of others –

So simple-minded, solely to blend in with the crowd,
As indeed, wealth wields power - it challenges
Every muscle and very sentiment.

An investor buys an expensive watch to stay ahead of time. While the rest, will buy it to look like they have all the time in the world. We'll hold onto to the past, to appear we can hold time in our hand; wrapping your arm in the tune of your own success, both for the applauds of a band. Still if money does talk, there'll be a disconnect holding money to your ear. Trying to seem like you talk business, but in the efforts of a sold out career. The taste of a risk, is the blood your poured out of your wrist,— covering up those scars with a time piece. Still time never gives me any real peace, for a piece of thought, is me always wondering what time is.

Murderers killing the itch of time, scratching at the wait of doing something productive at every inch. The weight of robbers stealing time, will be carried away by the imaginary fortunes they think they have, just like the rich. I know you can't really scratch that painful itch by being rich, but it does help me afford the cream to soothe that feeling of a pinch. To not pinch a penny, over thinking how to save your self. When every penny for a thought, is thinking about how you can increase your wealth. As time is money; money only comes in due time, I might have as well bought an expensive watch, to keep watch on this money of mine.

...Still money will never be enough, as there will never be enough time.

'Life is but a dream,' I question the value of it;
at the edge of life, the edge of time, the edge of our reality;
at the edge of this cliff, we edge ourselves to a falling death.
But what if the fall to our death is like a dream—falling into
a hole, gaining speed close to it's undersurface? We'd wake
up before we hit the ground.

But would I wake up in a cold sweat; or in tears, of longing to
find what lies in the somber of a deep hole? Maybe my soul?
Haha; it's outline must of been shaped by the mind's many dreams,
my child. For what good was it; in the spirit ties of it being lost in the world?  A world at times that doesn't feel as real:
but just a life of a dream.

So by this edge, clutched by the winds of background; hold your
breath before you and I jump. Time may, or may not slow in the
plunge to the valley's undersurface. Still perhaps, this all could be
a dream, and we'll both wake up before we hit the bottom.

Surely it must be, because I don't know a reality to be as brave
to commit such an act. Why pinch yourself, when you've been
pinched by pillars of salt in life—sourness and bitterness?

Oh my inner child, life is but a dream:
and soon we'll both wake up from it.

In the darkest hour, I may rise at 3am,
Lost in a haze, sipping aimlessly,
Aiming another sip down my weary throat,
Yearning to silence a cough, to release my words,
As I ponder the creatures lurking in my mind's sea.

Within the depths of my thoughts, they swim,
Engaged in a fierce battle for breath,
Yet, I question why I label my courage a monster,
For it is I who has been the true beast all along.

I am the sun
in my eye,

seeing bright smiles
of beautiful people:

solar flair of hope,
wide spread in an instance:

a reflection of light,
from the great above;

                A moon child.

childish tears
spilled popcorn during the show
chasing light in the night

a tent without a roof,
for aerials to perform in the stars

but alas, the craze is blue—
of tides seduced by the moon

gaze through the depths of my eyes; do you perceive that these
thoughts are birthed from all that's televised – a smile that I carry,
merely just a show!

beyond the sight of the untrained eye lies unfulfilled desires,
for idleness thrives in the lap of plenty - resting my head on idle
thoughts!

dreams, once drove a heart; now they've driven right off the edge
of their thoughts. as the enigma of preserving a youthful body is
still a secret, slipping away eternally into the merciless grasp of
time.

                                        all pieces of myself eternally yearning
                                                               for just a little more time.

Cries of a wolf—howling in the
burns of a shadowy night. Preying eyes,
seeking, pouncing to hunt you out my dear.
Chasing love, or rather being chased by love
behind a trail of youthful winds. At the time
we still could count the scars on our knees.

Seems we've barely got skins holding solid
on our bones. Time is a she-wolf feasting on
once was youth. Her sharp tooth digs into my
eyes—gnawing my ability of sight.

I'm haunted by the long nights; seeming longer
if you're unsure you'd wake in the morning.
Death is a mistress of non screaming echoes,
but a peaceful whisper of her calling. She knocks
at the door of my cold feet; a deathbed unlike
no other rest to your eyes. (It's subtle goodbye)

But a longest night, makes expectancy of the day
brighter than it's tomorrow. But a few extra hours
is never what we'll borrow—still the hours of
wisdom we left behind is hoped to follow.
To let new things grow in the rises of one's
written experience, as the story of a Morn' flower.

May your eyes;
be bright towards the future,
Your past;
only but a memory in the shadows,

Your dreams;
as so bold to move mountains,
Your goals;
as precise as the targets you set,

Your hope's song;
as loud as many heavens roaring,
Your day's courage;
be the first step of chills to hell,

Your words;
the very worthwhile of the mind,
And your echo;
be the reflection of a heart's love,

As I bless all the eyes,
of this poetic piece.
And many more blessings,
upon all my fellow poets.

Eyes of a deep, earthy brown meet my gaze – a clash of syllables;
she embodies the essence of the soil.  Her foundation is unwavering,
and she is no one to indulge in the comforts of tepid waters;
she’s meant to ignite.

She leaves me in suspense, yearning – my nerves tremble in the
dawn’s embrace, her presence a jolt to fuel my spirit.

An ode to the morning brew.

I told them I was tired of being local, and they took me as a joker
But the punchline of that is I'm the only one with focus
You try to vouch for peers, but some people turn into vultures
I meant to say voucher, that you receipt after a purchase
As some people purchase purpose; ******* in the end coitus
Still it was a moment you had enjoyed that introitus

Some do feel small inside; their inferior interiors
Not so big as it appears. Just masking hopes with years of fears
Spill a bottle of fine wine on me, and my lesser many me's
Fine dine around a table of my Lord and my enemies
Spit fire of the scolded tongue, but dire in response of having fun
Over the moon joy with a heated anger under the sun
Not all reach a ****** of their fun—still waiting for it to come

In the third person of the third stanza line
They didn't know me as a first person describing I
I'm that guy routing for himself in the ways to walk by
But the GPS was off to the location, and I have no WiFi

In the cause of this morning rhyme, it seemed fun to write
Mixing a wordplay in every line—I've got a childish mind
That child inside, wants to live freely but how in this adult life
Where being yourself is a crime; so you're a person of omission
As they won't see you for as you are, if you don't follow they vision
I guess I'm supposed to be chasing women, and calling them *******
Lined out naked perfectly on some exotic beaches
Placed on the scales of fame, I'm must be swimming with the fishes

The only time they'd say I left my communicative ways of being local
And a yes to having their focus; get rich and buy yourself a lotus
Smoke some flowers, while deflowering flower's with a magnum opus
As that's the art of the world's composer, I try to keep my composure
Breathes in I'm just most certainly tired of being so local
Perhaps I'll die in the crowd to be considered folklore
But I remain local

Songbird
resting in the tree
As an early winter leaf
is kidnapped by winds

The buried seed
in the dark, comes to light—all to see
Where there is shelter
under it's shade of canopy

And dancing fox's tail
entail such details of her redwood
It has filled my eyes with glee
to see something growing so free

As true strength of roots
is the patience we must have, and give
So like this morning wood,
does its growth be strong remarks as it appears

    Listen to the tree leaf by winds
    And the buried seed of canopy,
    All to see—growing free, and
    Give strong remarks as it appears

nature o so quiet and subtle,

these mountains are the only-
to hear a sound of falling trees,
all the winds are the last-
to touch skins of leaves.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

these woods of life, all it's
creatures are your children,
seed pods of their fill,
will hit the grounds and spill.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

these many butterfly kisses,
ladybug tickles, foxes all cunning,
prey all running, birds chirping,
as antlers ears alerting.

nature o so quiet and subtle,

you wear a dress to-
cover all your young,
as the mother of all.

you deserve all that you have given
—in a world that takes, takes kindness
lightly. we live in a dark world
tossing their weight of heavy sin by
the stones building their walls
oh mr kindness,

             ....you deserve so much more

If could call myself an early death,
how'd I seize the day if I'm so stressed?
Knowing I'm blessed,
but also slightly depressed.

I'll confess it's hard
to see the best at your worst
While you question your worth.

Faces fail to display feelings,
high tensions over a room of low ceilings.
A wise bright smile,
with the loneliest man inside.
Who am I,
Mr Lonely Happy Wise guy.

Hi...✋

seem to forget all the places I’ve gone, still remember
all those I’ve loved – while our dreams still attract my
imagination; dressed in your night gown.

the breath of a lover’s skin still tingles even after she’s gone;
yet it would be the older version of me, teaching the young –
that even the ones with a bag of ***, still carry their baggage;
that even with a bag of tricks by your side, a better man will
make your best love, seem so average.

trading paint over our skins; just to paint a picture of a future;
a man finds joy in knowing he’s the present suitor – though if he
can’t dress the part of her life, please don’t shed tears when she
finds one that suits her.

but maybe I wrote this for all the losers – perhaps, “you sir”

so said the man looking at himself in that mirror. third wheeling
their love as a chauffeur. he once took the financial risk of finding
love. an entrepreneur – yes, “you sir”

           didn't plan to lose her, but hey there, Mr Loser.

Line marks on a face
probably their first good rest
Their events of yesterday;
she'd undress to address a situation
While he's given the address to her favourable location

"Where's the shame in a little pain,"
she had casually asked him
He seemed a little passive before his passion
"I prefer asking for consent," he told her, as he's old fashioned

"But I could imagine things I could do,
things I could never speak of; let alone speak to you
Not be rude— I'm sort of new to showing my other side
a beast inside, and my *** drive runs along a journey of being wild"

And just like a hoodie after ***,
she's worn out, anxious at the start, but now out of breath
"There's no need to pretend, in like those Nikes; I already checked
that you'd step out of your comfort zone, and just do it
At first I was a bit clueless; but that first hit was the first hint

...And if you ever feel shy to be yourself in public,
just show me yourself in secret
Your identity doesn't need to belong to the world,
you belong to me— your Mrs!

This will start off as a less than serious write; but by its end,
it will come all right.

Bullet penetrating stares —observing everything just to leave the
world with another bullet hole. A tongue like a dagger slicing
through every word of speech; those in charge desperately trying to
keep control. You caught me off guard without my bulletproof vest-
my chest, covers over my heart with a ****** to protect my love.

I settled my debts in the rear of a fleeting romance – a partner I
needed to catch like a taxi on the street; though our paths rarely
matched – I had to read the steps to her heart as if it were a well
detailed and laid out map.

I walked by, bidding goodbye countless times – but I never truly
grasped this kind of love, I never had my hand in it; yet I played my
role by waving you hie. However, I must have misinterpreted what
you saw in me, mistaking it for a feeling that soared a bit too high.
Yet, it wouldn’t keep us grounded, we could be birds for the night;
unless you have a touch of fear when it comes to heights.

Just co-pilot for this flight – I’ll soar above your challenges, offering
guidance with my perspective’s oversight. Savour the flavour of love,
but don’t indulge too soon; you wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite
for the main course – save yourself an overbite. Misaligned; life may
start off a bit askew, but ultimately, we all seek that perfect match, to
find the right fit of being in love, with our Mr. or Mrs. Right.

Mr Nice Guy,
with a broken smile, shattered dreams, and tired knees.
Battered equals, divided by trades of thought. You think
too much, with idle hands so dangerous when you’re
getting bored.

All the time of the world, is too small to hold.

Or like the past in your hands, a bright future seems
too dim in your head. So while you’re living to impress,
and motivate others lost in the lights of life;
I know you’re constantly hoping to wake up dead.

Aren’t you already there?

You won’t be there alone too long, I’ll be joining you soon.
Let me not wake up dead. I’ll need to switch off my alarm.

Question...

What is self conversation in these minded walls;
What speaks louder,— a present, past or longing future,
Who do you follow to be the leader of tomorrow,
Who are your children to be; of what you make of yourself now,
And how do you treat yourself when the public eyes are off,
With the obvious expected responses of a nice guy?

Oh Mr Nice guy, you're too nice for the world.

The poorest man would say he's rich in heart,
The richest man would say he's poor in spirit,
The happiest man does cry in secret,
The saddest face laughs when no-one is looking,
The patient man has no rush to death,
The busiest man hasn't got the time to drop and die,
The dreamer longs to fly so high,
The insomniac buries his head in the dirt of hopes.

So what of me, in the list?

I'm the poorest when it comes to being romantic; but rich
in my words of flirt. The richest of all my written love
poems; but the poorest in having a love to share them with.

I'm the happiest man when I cry myself to sleep in secret; and truly at my saddest when their eyes are no longer looking at me.

I'm patient on my morals, that keep me separate from death;
but at my stress, I rush into the thoughts of just dropping dead.

And I could dream a thousand times of wanting to fly; though
the insomnia of my creativity, is buried in deep thought.

All that you'd expect me to love, I'd surely hate. And so
I'm unknown to the actual truth of many peers. Who would know me by name, but never my real title.

I am Mr Untitled.

In the midst of shimmering, pendant tears that fell gracefully
like a soothing, cooling summer rain, bringing with them
a sense of calm and renewal, I couldn't help but reminisce about
our carefree days of youth.

We used to playfully refer to such rain as a "monkey's wedding,"
finding joy in the whimsical nature of the world around us.

It was during those precious moments that we formed a bond,
united by our shared sense of humor and our pursuit of wishful thinking, always hoping to find that elusive *** of gold at the end of the rainbow.
We believed that if we could stumble upon such a treasure,
it would grant us the luxury of time, allowing us to forget the struggles and challenges we faced in our everyday lives.
In our innocence, we placed our trust in the wisdom that only
a youth can muster up in their playful explorations.

As I reflect on those days, I can still vividly picture the magnificent mud castles we built, standing tall and proud, mirroring the immense joy and satisfaction we derived from our imaginative endeavors.
They were like immortal empires, resilient against the test of time,
but only if we nourished them with our ever-fertile imaginations.

Like tender saplings in need of water, our castles depended on
the constant flow of our dreams to survive and thrive.

And just as the sun warms the earth and gently dries up the
morning dew, I hope that if I ever find myself receding and
drying up, it is only in the context of my grand finale.
There is still so much left for me to accomplish, so many dreams
to chase and conquer.

In the hearts of those who embrace their inner child, there is a
constant beating, a fervent longing to return to that imaginative
state and be transported to a world that knows no bounds.
It is a nation within the mind, regardless of its size or its capacity
to hold the dreams and aspirations of its inhabitants.

And at the end of his life,
he whispered with a tear:

Dear God,

I hope you're listening this time

                  it's time for me to die.

To touch base, I've mixed with bass,
treble; or tremble at the highest volume,
audiotapes left in the closet, those love
confessions in secret; titled into a mixtape,
Or was it a mistake to place myself in the
music I tried to write?

The lyrics are just me ranting away,
in the thinking of finding a way.
I feel a little blue today; in a jazz of a saxophone,
ordering snacks on my phone. It feels too easy to
rhyme. To play with my words. CD discs,
I was scratched by love; in the ignorance of bliss.

Sad playlists saved in good question,
earphones stuck in my ears while I'm still asleep.
Good reason for me to seem so restless,
bluetooth speaker; hoping to successfully connect.
Still pairing to an unpaired match I could bet.

But music is always emotion, just in beat,
catchy hooks, melodies, and shuffling your feet.
To get you off your feet, get you to think, and as
my dad would say, "your favourite songs gets your *** lit"

I can't function without my music.

Communication of commotion;
       bumping heads of opinions- so many worlds
in your eyes I see; stuck at a perception like a

Love at first sight; losing time in your hair,
       losing lips that speak love, by the heap of flesh
around your rib; a watchful gaze, as your
       perfect eye stalker:
Ripping pieces of your sky away
                   as a skyscraper
· · · · · ·kissing, as pestering flies
swatting away any ideas of
                              maybe falling in love

Fly across oceans, a domestic star- pet names
  that would offend a dog, we’re more
******* with each other; that the territory marked
               is just a dry bark- as we bite and chew
· · · · · ·each other out. Still, I’ll be as loyal as a dog
to find a means to cheer you up; crossbreeding
love and quiet hate, for the pedigree of us.
            
You will stay cherished, as my first love

I'll ravage your flesh with a ferocious hunger,
devoid of any restraint or inhibition, as I immerse myself
in the pursuit of satiating my most primal desires.
With every inhale, the intoxicating scent of your flower
captivates my senses, leaving me lusting for the delectable
sweetness that lies within. It's a flavor that seduces like a
symphony playing upon my taste buds, awakening an insatiable
craving that consumes me from within.

So, my love, settle upon my tongue and allow yourself to
indulge in the enchanting sensations that await you there.
Feel the heat of my breath mingling with your essence, teasing
and coaxing, guiding you towards the pinnacle of pleasure.
As the strands of your hair intertwine with my grasp, I will
shape our movements with unwavering confidence, leading you
through the tumultuous symphony of our desire.

In my presence, the strength of our connection will resonate
through every fiber of your being.
Your legs will surrender to their trembling under the weight of
our intense union, while your heart and soul collide with a force
so powerful it leaves no doubts or hesitation in your mind.
You will know, without the shadow of a doubt, that you
belong to me and me alone.

And allow me to confess, my darling, that my words possess
a hypnotic quality that penetrates your very core.
Even before my teeth sink into the tender flesh of your neck,
my lips will grace its surface, ascending its contours like
a mountaineer seeking the highest summit.
With every touch, every caress, the walls within you will
yield gradually and willingly, testaments to the profound pleasure
I offer and the ecstasy we create together.

As our passionate encounter reaches its zenith, I want you to
revel in the knowledge that every moment has been a sensational surrender to the depths of desire.
My whispers, soft as silk against your ear, will affirm the
undeniable truth that our connection is beyond question or doubt.
It is a truth that we share, etched upon our very beings, binding
us together in an unbreakable bond.

In the end, my love, there is no room for uncertainty.
Your complete and utter enjoyment of our encounters is not
a mere fleeting possibility but an irrefutable reality that we
both embrace. In the whispers of our ecstasy, in the echoes
of our connection, the affirmation resounds loudly and clearly:

     You belong to me, my love... and forevermore,
            you shall remain mine and mine alone.

Darling, still wishing for kisses and tickles underneath the sheets of a bed of love,
Wrap your love round my hand like a tightly worn glove.
A thousand calls and a billion messages left staring in your phone,
Still traveling back to our place, just that moment of you and I, darling I'm rushing to get home.

Blank notes filled with tears of my heart and beats of a silent brain,
They would only see you and I both day and night, while other times catching beatiful raindrops in calming rain.
They would see us riding a Golden compass to find more treasures of this love of ours.
Sitting in the middle of an ocean filled with my tears of joy, that I cried for you and I, a thousand hours.

But you and I could fill an entire planet, just the two of us.
Love filling all the corners of the planets crust, counting the time to pass.

My darling it's just you and I, but I would never forget the God that brought us both to be.
So right now, we shall sleep a thousand hours to dream up all those dreams, just come closer and lay down with me.

Now...

I can't sleep; because of it.
I can't wake up happy; because of it.
I can't breathe; because of it.
I can't move; because of it.
I can't eat; because of it.
I can't live; because of it.
I can't make new friends; because of it.
I can't be alone; because of it.
I can't deal with large crowds; because of it.
I can't be me; because of it,
But I'm not defined as a person; because of it.

I'm not worthless; because of it.
I'm not weak; because of it.
I'm not a fool; because of it.
I'm not an outcast; because of it.
I'm not less of a dreamer; because of it.
I'm not the only one suffering; because of it.
My life's struggles may be the cause of it,
But I'll do so many things because of it.

I'll choose to push on; because of it.
I'll choose to smile; because of it.
I'll cry at night sometimes; because of it.
I'll constantly be inspired; because of it.
I'll craft masterpieces; because of it.
I'll comfort others in the same boat; because of it.
I'll continue to be the advocate for change; because of it.

And my depression is the cause of many things;
all the good, bad and moderate.

As all you see of me; is because of it.

All living fears have me dead in my feet,
Obscure; seems be the journey too fretful to take,
So as quickly as I start, I quickly retreat.
An outstanding trend,—a show on repeat,
On the screens of my eyes; blank as the static
dancing on your fingertips. Before doing an action,
A question of, "can I really do this"

I stutter my words before a speech in normal conversation,
I I trr-rryy not to chew on the words stuck on my tongue,
So frustrating; that the point of topic lost it's concentration.
But of course,—the confidence of pretend is louder,
Than the shyness of the wisdom I still keep silent,
Would they listen to me, as youth to old? I truly do wonder.

I'm afraid of love; of that I may not find,
I'm afraid of commitment at times,
Solely in the thoughts of fearing I won't provide,
So by the divide; two sides are of searching for love,
Or letting it be as is; whether found or not,
Perhaps as hopeful to truly believe all comes from above.

I'm afraid of time; that I do not have or waste,
Likewise having so much of it, to have nothing to do,
Perhaps as ticking over the time, my toc is out of haste.
I'm afraid of myself; moments I don't recognise him,
When I do more than I expected, or less of what I hoped,
Doing his level best, but his best is always at a whim.

I'm afraid of dreams; those I may not fulfil,
My head is filled with them, unlike the successes at hand,
Which dream comes true, seems to be by God's will.
A thrill at times, but a chasing heart out of a breathless chest,
I have many targets in life, my goal is to only stand out of the rest.

Will my fears be immortalised, to leave me traumatized,
Or will I find my bravery to survive?

Can you not hear
the murmurs of your skin tone –

Oh darling, your decimal smile,
is a testament to the value you own

Your kiss is an ode, your soul
a ballad; and your body is a poem.

How could a man articulate
your essence, if not through his words –

For these mere words fall short,
even for ones whose pride stands tall

A love letter, I find myself enveloping,
so unwilling to let go; wishing I could
have you as my girl.

Open up your eyes and let the light pierce through,
casting away the darkness that clouds your vision
like a waterfall's cascade.

Take a deep look into the depths of my eyes; there,
you will witness the aftermath of my chaotic existence.
I have been smoking and screaming with such intensity
that my lungs ache, and the worn floors beneath me have become unwitting ashtrays.

So, I implore you, pry open those sealed caskets that hold your desires and dive headfirst into the realm of indebtedness.
Some seek solace in the grace of old friendships
and ask for new favors, for I, in turn, will search for a woman with captivating eyes and a well-endowed chest,
someone whose presence allows me to maintain focus
on four things at once, even after removing my glasses.

Count the years, last I had a girlfriend –
not the same count since I last kissed a girl
but I could name the bunch I kissed (not a lot)
no grand numbers to express a body count;
though I’VE met a lot of people, but still haven’t
been around. Cried a little more this year, then what
I plan to begin with every year – tasted a drop of lust,
swallowed every piece of a tear (cut my tongue)
acted worse than my young- ****** up (a lot)

Thought of suicide more times than the reasons I had to
**** myself- did a bit of exercise for about a month
not for my health; my stomach was sticking out.
Fed myself a taste of lips, lost my tongue in the sound
of their hiss, got to hold onto someone’s hips- still never
found the appeal of calling a girl your ***** (isn’t that
an ick)

Been called out by those whose ears could never hear
a ring; tried to delete my Google when I though the search
for love was over- now I laugh instead, while using Bing.

I’ve had my full of this year, don’t expect me to be hopeful
for the next, I’ll just take it all as it is. Even if I don’t have all
that it takes, I hope I never lose what it takes to give…
my heart.

Stand with me on ten toes
a little piggy that markets a bit of love
And I know we'd kick  it better at home,
while I roast your friends every time we meet,
always having beef with them all
The don't know you truly for yourself,
quite frankly you're better off with none
Still you and I make a perfect we, we can feast like
a little piggy on sweet nothing's, when we're home alone

                    I guess we're still a bit like kids, in love.

I seen a picture of you from the sides,
and got lost in your sideview
I put my thoughts to rest, each time
we're running into that room
And I flip you over to another chapter
of your body's next page
So lets have a bit of these sides from the
ashes of past days; put it all in that ashtray....

Give me a title,
and I'll write something for you

What if my fix
has me breaking,
What if my outer demons
had me cave in,
How do I think straight
when my mind is always shaking?

Tend to be weird,
that's better me than faking.

Cause I'm just myself,
can never be someone else.
Live my worth like it's my house,
Love myself, and I'm so **** proud.

I wish I could tell you, “I love you”
just one more time— but the way our lips met,
I sought your forgiveness, not your consent. Still it
feels like an eternity since our last embrace; that gentle
warmth enveloped us, as those flushed cheeks beneath
my hand still had time to glow…
…

Let me look into those sparkling tears one final
time— cherishing the fleeting moments we shared, doesn’t
that memory feel extraordinary? Yet, when I falter, I often
convince myself it’s simply because I’m a man, but my
intentions are pure, by my arm and hand, just struggling
by the want to hold a bit too long

Open to a kiss as we speak; tasting the bittersweet
harmony of your love and sorrow in a single breath.
Yet, I wear a facade of a smile—mourning the kisses
and whispers that have slipped away on the wind, while
a trace of heartache lingers on my lips.

I found myself unable to express my emotions once
more, or perhaps I was simply repeating the
same sentiments.

must you love me – accident prone; it could be my
clumsy self that made me fall in love. you hate smokers,
around you; I really hope I’m not too much of a drag
yet the laughter, and the sun follow you around like
smoke– addicted, they must love you

And she asked me:
“darling, do you think you could handle me,”

while twisting my thoughts by the handle to my heart’s
door – that’s my handful; being handy to remind you,
your eyes are beautiful. but I always seem too naked with my
thoughts, would you bear with me, be bare with me

stripped of false disguise – let me know your inner child from
your mother’s womb. the heat of your body that fires the spark
between us both; aroused in your presence, and yearning for
more, by the lack there of.

pen words of worth to penetrate your thoughts, rising
up in anticipation to that sensual mountaintop, as your
passion is to spasm for me, in this naked trust of love
                     in this very moment, we are one.