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.

Found love in a man’s clothes; the one who had
Love in his heart before that love stick in his pants

Man-made; a man made from complex emotions,
He’s just an emoji showing one shade of feeling
With a different one behind him

So few, do rarely wear their heart on their sleeve –
He does so well to cover up himself

                                              Naked men are so few!

How exposed are you,
all that lies in your heart?
All the pains and hurt it knows,
all of what you are.

To the naked eye of I,
I see in you a spark of fire.
As it longs to see you exposed,
but not when you remove your clothes.

Save that for later.

Let out your emotions,
leave them bare.
The bare essentials of you,
the deepest parts of your soul.

The battle scars carved throughout,
all that you've fought.
All that you've conquered,
all of which shows me your worth.

I'll make the effort worth the time,
awe-inspiring, for you're so sublime.
But it only gets to be as such
if you really don't mind.

My naked scars on display,
a showcase of my being.

We could be naked together.

With a naked eye,
I share these naked thoughts—
so bear with me a moment.
You found me in a vulnerable stance—
bare, but still standing on business.
Banking on every dream that still
has a resting chance.

Even when life feels mundane in too
many ways—I keep pushing, fighting
the material gaze of critics, and the
cryptic ways some people define love
and measure trust.

But between all people, there is life—
and in life there’s the chance to live out
a dream, to become who we are without
shame, to love who loves us back, yet still,
hold out a hand, as an extension of love
to those who need it the most.

And maybe, just maybe—that’s the kind
of dream worth believing in.

I heard the fury of nature
as the bee that stung
my earlobe
The thunder rolling like a
stone rolling down the mountain
I was told to drink the tears of angels
in these heavens fountain
then bathed in Spirit
to be drowning

I had loved; to the increase of
the foundation under feet
with the more yet to be found
Oh the heart is so wicked
as I spend it all on every weekend

She knows me not of my vices
in the music advice of my
long dead idols
I fair any better in the lessons
of nature, death & time

As nature is pure, death is a given
and time is strange

Life before man; the peace and creation of nature
a cloud for every eager striving flower- inhabitants
of a creek; precious stones dressing the stream’s bed
Distant cousins to sea pebbles, bond to a long year
The once great might of ancient forests; swallowing
empty valleys of earth, in their timeless brilliance
of nature

Quiet rains that are like wiping tears from the sky’s
picturesque face; to the joys of grass that hungers
The brightness of today, pours through the walls
of tomorrow’s marrow- an endless returning light
And grand spotlight to the shadows we see, and
the shadows within. Pieces of ourselves revealed
to us

Human life, under the source of day- gives an
endless revealing, of the destiny we must accomplish.

Dark reflections is only our past,
the light on the other end
Is the future ahead.
These aren't reasons to live,
rather necessary facts.

As I gaze upon you, tears streaming down your face,
I see a reflection of myself witnessing your sorrow,
It's as if your eyes shoot bullets of pure pain
And it's in this moment, I feel utterly useless,
like a needle without a sharp point, trying to
pierce your skin one last time.

Yet, despite our shared agony,
we are both numb to anything except
the hurtful words spoken by our loved ones.

My eyes, immortal and wise, yearn for
a life beyond the limits of mortality,
I desire wealth as time slowly passes, reminding
me of its monotonous nature.
In my imagination, I lead a more fulfilling existence,
However, I cannot imagine myself as the one
who will ever live out those dreams.
The sacrifices I have made will lay the groundwork
for the success that will support my loved ones.

Above all, I am someone who prioritizes others
over myself. They are my first thought, the beat
of my heart, and the recipients of my prayers
as time goes on.

In the depths of my longing, I find comfort
in the idea of transcendence.
In my mind, I envision a world where our sorrows
are fleeting moments in an eternity of joy and fulfillment.

I yearn for the day when your tears of anguish
turn into tears of laughter, when the burden of
our pain is lifted and replaced with a lightness of being.
This vision drives me forward, even in moments
of complete futility, like that needle searching for
purpose without a sharp point.

But as I dream of a life beyond my reach,
I cannot ignore the fact that I am not the main character.
I feel like that needle hidden in a haystack,
trying to find itself; a strong desire to find out
who I really am.

toxicity is just a human thing; cause of all the fumes we
all love to breathe – do our young men have much chose,
we can all live like men, but need to be trained like boys
if the roof over our troubled fires fell down, would the
smoke clear, or would we be forced to breath it all in?

but that’s how we live because we’re troubled, have dreams
inspired by the ideas of others, treat women less, as men
with no father’s, live in our own shadows because we all
hate our true colours –
                                  we just all want to breath.

I dreamt of a familiar kind of you,
that I became soaked in my own tears
I swam across oceans to reunite with you, to see you again,
but I know so much of you, and how you hate to see men
And I'd hate to admit it was all just a ******* in the end.

I wonder if you held the key to curing my depression,
I had always felt like a burden, being treated as a sickness
As I couldn't really talk to a lot of girls a while before;
so I'm guessing now, its still my only real weakness
But I learnt to catch myself enough times,
before catching anymore of unnecessary feelings
I had become a master at suppressing my feelings,
even if it meant killing a part of myself in the process
- suffering in love crimes with so many villains.

But I'd kiss a mistress as if I were her last hero,
though, I couldn't get enough of shaking
hands with a bit of lust, -it should have been
my very last in all these secret ***** dealings
Still on top of my head, I go beyond my own ceilings,
I would continue to lock my heart away, like a machine
that had been programmed; to securely lock away
it's heart with time's sealings.


                           Is this what it feels like to never love again?

Have you the nest to rest my head upon your laps,
For on this already turning world my head too is slowly spinning.

Darling if you knew the distance of my heart growing away from me you'd surely look at me with eyes of concern.

For you live just to learn, but you haven't learnt so much if you can easily count it.
And counting on me is not always a guaranteed number, but I'm taking my chances to count till infinity.

Baby if it was the right enough time for me to say this could be us, there wouldn't be enough seconds for me to say it on what time is left.

For between us both we'll make what is two to be one. But of us both one would have to make the necessary sacrifice.
Understand my ideas of marriage when I say to you I'm giving to you this life.

As I grow slowly to the idea of what the future would be, searching deeply to place my roots.
And I've found Love digging much deeper inside of me that my heart implodes.
Better yet as emotions make it explode.
And I guess for True love I'd be holding the world, taking on it's loads.

So if I ask again to find a nest on your lap to rest my head,
Don't deny me the task.
For I'd never wish in the future to beg and please for it. And maybe by then I'd never need to ask.

There' a missing scene,
in between a few texts of your last seen
Making my mind go black as that screen,
staring at the dark; a usual shadow as it seems
As you could cry yourself a river over a missed
opportunity of Netflix and chill; but it's just a couple streams

I would die,
dinning on you
Running up the stairs to a reach,
as even after death- I'll still hold onto you

Coded messages, inscribed by the scars on my skin
Aspects of a secluded heart; as the line of tears, maps
Out the journey to a long sense of finding due healing

As the border between maturity and old youth, in a new attire;
Once the public uniform of coming in your, “Sunday best,”
Disguising all the vile of yourself- as we fashion ourselves to
Look like the most likable person; the scrap pieces of dripping water
From prior baptisms- as some of the sovereign believers are uncouth
To their God, wearing the many false skins, hunted in wickedness-
Their very own diplomacy of delighted barbarism  

Separate all of your self-gratifying creeds, and agreed to
Worship in love, pray together; coming as you are- as we are
All knitted together by familiar troubles, hurts, griefs, uproars-
To raise our voices, bringing life to this new body.

A concealed chaos danced in our gazes – our skins quivered,
muscles coiling tight, startled by the electric brush of our hands.
I drew the essence of my longing into your bare form, enveloped
in a veil of creamy sweetness and intoxicating fragrance;
a moment long awaited.

My lips, glistening with the fantasy of your space, a yearn to
explore those four walls that beckon me, to caress, to hold,
to savour the taste of you against my own skin. You are my
deepest desire, my ultimate love, the very pulse of my
existence; let us unite tonight to ignite a new beginning –
a new existence.

she was scarred by words
painted by unholy titles
netted by momentary stomach butterflies
would love, though not loved
giving a hand, to a fistful of hate
she'd say less, they'd select
only hoping to impress, but just seen for ***

the scene plays in my head
of her story. a nightmare in my head
the tragedy of her and I are friends

Whirling vortex; -
I stalked a dream so smooth-tongued,
every whisper of it, had an attention to its
words- intentions to look so divine.

And for a fleeting choice of the moment,
I faintly enjoyed the lie.

|as slow as a night rider
comes; i've been on the low
driving nowhere nearest to the sun
all heated up over your love
stayed overnight, spending that night
under those stars- i was lost in your eyes

...and i'm hoping time slows for me to
                       stay trapped in this night

The night employs its workers after eight,
creating an atmosphere where individuals seek to escape
their mundane routines and indulge in a thrilling experience.

For one man, this nocturnal venture is
an attempt to buy time, to savor each moment of
a good time and escape the pressures of daily life.
Intentionally avoiding personal connections, he finds solace
in the nameless encounters shared throughout the night—
a world where the unknown pasts of both parties remain shrouded, not wanting to delve into the parts of each other
that we prefer to keep hidden.

Within the night's enchanting embrace, there is a woman
who possesses innocence and curiosity, although her legs
bear the weight of experiences accumulated.
She possesses the wisdom gained through countless encounters,
manifesting in the act of lighting a cigarette after moments of intimacy, letting the smoke billow upward to silently erase the tales of the night.

Her actions portray a yearning for something more,
as she continuously summons another night, effortlessly
dialing for the next thrilling adventure.

Yet, as we reflect upon the distinction between a mere
night out and genuine love, we realize the striking
similarities between the two.
Both demand a significant investment of our time, resources,
and emotions.

We willingly pour ourselves into each pursuit, striving to
stay entertained and maintain appearances.

The other hand is an ongoing exchange, where we pay to experience the thrill of a secret night, concealing our desires behind closed doors and hidden rendezvous.

In this clandestine world, we navigate the blurred boundaries between escapism and genuine connection.
The night becomes an arena for fleeting passions and borrowed moments of exhilaration, a space where we can momentarily indulge our desires and find solace in the darkness.
As we surrender ourselves to the allure of the night, we gradually become entangled in a web of undisclosed experiences, trading our time and resources for the secrets
that unravel after dusk.

Tragedy never seems to run out;
a cat runs through traffic —
and unfortunately,
    it finally
        ran out of lives.

My desires of a dream, in the sheeting of time.
I am wrapped over, by a harsh reality.
A morning sunrise, upsets dark looming eyes of fears.
Gutted by the feelings of butterflies in my stomach.
The knots of being tied to flesh.
Belittled by facts of my experience not reaching up to this word
of Love.

Seems only a word slipping out of the tongue to wet ears.
Pleasurable to be heard by our once youth.
But not of their deserving.
But what of the old, that has impressed the new, I haven’t
the slightest clue.

Night time, play time, hate crime,
Riding the waves in my mind to sink an island ,
Pass out to fall asleep in a woken dream and try to find it.
Slipping through the shadows grips, shadowless nights and alone time in a crowded room,
Drug addict to the night, need to clean it up, sweep it up, where's my broom.

Moon riding and star surfing through a nocturnal night of prey,
I kissed a comet, waiting for her to kiss me back, I'll tell her loving words to let me stay.
I stayed an extra night on a short period of that time,
I made a broken craft and made funds out of it but never kept the money as mine.

Nocturnal night, play time, hate crime, my time and more time,
Slapped a high five and got ten back, that's still quite fine.
So look at this Nocturnal King, ruler of his night and time,
Degreed something not yet ordered, but that was still mine

Invisible crosses,
crossing out the days I
had no faith
As if monsters don't already
live in my head,- making me question
if I'll ever be heading in the right direction
From feeling like a dusty old Bible,
unattended to, and in servitude to to
most of my unclaimed confessions.

Could have been close to the ties
of me looking for change from the tithes
But I'll live a quarter of a mile, on
a quarter of my minds tank
I'm a bit too tanked to give anymore thanks,
any more funks, to dance around an n for
the wrong spelling of empty, and make
out as something you should c,- I have no ***** to give.

And she asked:

Why don’t we talk as much, is it –
Because we don't love as long,

Trying to eat my heart out - so fast,
And now it's just another piece of takeout

Tears trapped on your face
All turned into black makeup;
Thought we were just trying to make up –
Or was it all made up?

                     ******* hate break ups!

I'll be in my room comprehending my own life
In between the thoughts of my own dead mind
I'd still find it better to stay high on more life
And if I come up first, I know I'll just finish last
Being stagnant as a prayer of person who won't take a chance
Just to switch up on my own perspective, seeing the first
Shall be last, the last shall be first, I hope I finish like that

More on the latter-er
Even fools try to skip a few steps to Heaven
But we all have to climb the ladder,
Not on these false prophets, men not allowed in God's capital
But tell me what's your real stature, or does nothing really matter
Like you been facing your own battles, but really your just battered

The sin with laughter, a recipe for disaster
While the Devil has an appetite for destruction
You're too busy filling up his plate, serving him like
he was your master

You probably use the salt of your life just give his
bowl extra flavour
And would act surprised when God spits you out
Saying you lost your flavour
You'll probably be crying, claiming God must have his favourite
But what's the favour to a favourite, when we were all created
so different, assigned to a nation
Still you do yourself the favour of debating
Whether or not there's a heaven, whether or not your soul needs saving

We feel it more important to save ourselves on preserving a golden life
Trying to tick what's more important in life on trying to live on the spoils that spoil your mind
And at the end of your life you'll feel the regret of your rhetorical question
Of how there's no golden ticket to Heaven

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.

In the fray of lips, what real significance
do most of my words hold for me today
My eyes are like two unyielding stones,
cloaked in these skipping shades of grey;
I've witnessed love's deceit; so profound
that I tossed my own vision away.

Still, I’ll pursue every dream I cherish,
and remain hopeful even after I pray
—reflecting on the struggles that shaped us
all yesterday, which have led me to this day.

Even if greatness eludes me, dear Lord, grant
me a life of purpose, so I can declare that I am
truly living close the means of being okay…

No orange rhyme

Just a word rhyme,
a range you read with your eye.

No orange rhyme

Just a few slices with morning porridge,
I prayed before to keep homage.

No orange rhyme

Just me nearly close to courage,
a couple more words to speak knowledge.
The know is hanging off the ledge,
where dreams fell into being dead.

In over my head,
so over in my head, to be
back again at knowledge.

No orange rhyme

In amongst any line,
hard to find an orange line,
That's so sublime inside this
orange rhyme.

There's no orange rhyme

But just an orange blossom,
inside Orange County,
If you need a few, I brought some.
Sing how, and I'll follow with howdy.

We'll have some orange juice,
while we both wear orange shoes.
Groove on in an orange grove,
just like the cultivation of an
orange group.

**** on some orange's mint,
amongst the oranges picked.

And talk about no orange rhyme

A good kiss to fog up my glasses,
seeing the mist of an exhale before
she steals another piece of my breath

Inhale- we're like those we know for
passing smoke; kissing for far, far too long

I hope this time, I don't eventually choke;
as I always do, afterwards choking on my words
I guess that's me being lost for words- again

And maybe we started off with innocent kisses,
still as friends; a little tipsy on ecstasy
In this euphoric substance,
And I hope by tomorrow it doesn't turn us into enemies

Thanks for letting me into your heart
through your eyes, as those doors were wide open
Perhaps I couldn't kiss you with the best of focus'
still at least I kissed you with my best emotions

Feels as if I'll keep repeating those lines;
and as soon as you leave, it's the most boring of times
knowing you're not by my side

               sigh never mind!

I'll just sit waiting patiently for your reply.

tell me about a passionate spirit - I decide when not to die,
especially when dealing with suicide. waste myself, hate myself —
feeling like all the worst things. lose my thoughts, I cannot find
my mind; found a cause, held onto that knife

right now, I cannot breathe, yet still… I'll choose to live —
no more suicides.

I loved you, you loved me – as our hearts danced in unison;
and when we broke up, I broke a piece of myself forever tethered to
you – where I languished in the seat of butterflies caught in the nets
of my being; now, each passing day, I find myself sinking deeper into
the embrace of that couch.

I thought as much, yet no essence of our love could ever truly be
lost – even in the absence of what we once shared, the echoes of our
past fill me with a bittersweet pride. For you rekindled within me the
essence of love, the warmth of trust, the joy of spontaneous laughter,
the blush ignited by a mere text – not merely crafting imaginary
verses, but living the poetry woven into every word exchanged.

I thought as much, like a relentless storm, yet I have emerged
stronger than the facade I wore in my youth. And for that, I owe you
a debt of gratitude, for you have nurtured a part of me that has a
reason to grow up.

            It never was break up, I just had to grow up!

Under the mistletoe,
missed a chance to kiss your toes
—*******?
No, just wanted to kiss them better;
you've been running on my mind.

In the grand spell of words, let me etch this sentiment into your heart –
I find myself so tired, like a Toyota limping along with a missing hubcap.
My carpet smile, never held the weight it should have; you revelled in
The tickle of my beard as our lips met. Yet, as soon as we grew distant,
I shaved it away, a symbol of our fading connection, a relic of this
Relationship becoming one of long distance.

Typing my feelings onto the screen, though the true message of them
Weren’t delivered so well, failing to convey the depth of my despair.
I began to loathe myself, believing that the love I once held for you
Was a tether, leading you on to lead you astray. “I’m sorry,” I whisper,
But deep down, I always knew you were destined for someone far
Greater than I could ever be, or at the very least, someone who would
See you as the answer to their most fervent prayers.

I guess you weren't the answer to my prayers...

In the grand theatre of our romance,
In this courtship of our growing love
—only your parents could judge me.

In the grand theatre of our romance,
When I unveil my authentic essence
—your weeping eyes continue to love me.

In the grand theatre of our romance,
To say you're the woman of my dreams
—there’s no rest to provide you with the
justifications to profess your love for me!

Love isn’t a romantic movie…

I don’t have a license to drive anyone crazy — but I do have a mind
that keeps itself driven. Always on. Dreams at any given. And
I’ve felt the kind of love sickness that lingers too long — where
obsession is the disease of craving for something that was never really
yours to begin with. Envy stays green, growing tall like something
proud. But even weeds grow healthy, and we still call them plants,
right?

I’ve been tied to other people’s hopes — roped in by their strong
faith. "And I still try to believe." But saying that out loud feels like lying
to my own mouth. So I daydream in the interest of peace, trying not
to wake the ghouls I’ve tucked under my thoughts. I’ve had people
toss my advice like a smooth stone in their hand; pretending it’s
weightless, like their hands aren’t made of sand — like shallowness
could ever carry any real depth. But it just echoes the sea.

I always notice the ones who aren’t really seen. The unread...
The Blue and Grey ticks. While others get their messages read and
ignored, I’m just the message never opened. Still typing, still thinking
of the right words. I’ve come to represent the depressed, the lost, the young — the ones really trying to figure this **** out.

Pause yourself if you need to cuss, but I swear it’s not a curse to feel
like **** sometimes. It just means in that moment, you’re not feeling so clean. Not broken — just not fitting the costume.

Sometimes you just need one reason — just one — to feel like
yourself again. Not a version of you tailored to fit in. And that’s why
it suits me better not to force anything. So yeah, I wear shorts to
church — because life is too short, and I don’t see the point in
dressing up pain to make it feel prettier. Especially when it’s always
some casual man speaking formal hopes, trying to iron your sadness
into something presentable. As if comfort should only come with a
collar.

But I’m not here for that. I’m just here trying to feel real —
and maybe make peace with the parts of me that still feel unseen.

The God of my all; in the little that I have,
The words of Salvation; in the promises you've made,
The light of my path; on the days that I walk,
The song of protection; in life’s destructive chorus,
The echo of light; for the brightest of days.

On shaky ground; His foundations are my steady,
In empty days; He’s the fullest to my mornings,
To what do I owe to be given such love?

Nothing! Of what good works can give,
But rather the praise and adoration I have for him.
Nothing! Of what seems impossible,
Will be too impossible for Him.
Nothing! Of what the enemy plans,
Can stand against in the wayside of Him.
Nothing! Of my constant worries,
Will stop the love of the Lord our King.

Nothing! Is impossible,
for nothing is as great as Him.

Beautiful nightmares,
the dreams of logos on my shirt
-more like holes to aim at my heart
And I must of had a bold kind of thought,
when I let you cut all of my hair that night
So funny how I used to think of suicide,
but it must be a crime at your place,- I'll sue that side
And so ironically, I would love to die by your side.

I'll feed on your food for thought,
a staple meal; as I'm hooked on you
Pinned to your worth, with a tight staple,
balancing in between the time of keeping a relationship stable.

"I love you utterly more than the words to utter,"
are the words I'd enjoy to say, but do pray tell
Cos I know you can read about love, but could you spell,
the words of the charm it takes, of the magic of a love spell.

                        I know I'm not in love, but I'd like to be.

why is the voice of all
my disappointments;
louder than the cheers of all
my success;
and why I do I have to constantly
search for happiness,
yet easily be found depressed?

But don’t you try to wipe your tears with your dry skin –
Wearing the look of sorrow; your eyes standing mannequin
Could we be like a white lotus; holding the waters of life
Waiting to come out from the womb of the world?

My bones are a pacing cold, under the warmth of the sun
The city runs dark; watching tired dogs chasing after cars
I’m counting all of my scars; pulling weeds from my yard –
I spat a seed into the ground, waiting on a feast to grow

Where I was a Rose…with

Spores of thorns, to push away those who hurt me before
Placing most of our dreams high above – we own the skies
We owe the world none of our tears, but it loves to see us cry
And at times it feels better, just being silent most of the time
To watch all that happens, to learn, and then advise …

But I too, must learn to take up my own advice.

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.

A relationship so hard
to cut off, ironically for
what it actually is:
a man and his usual barber

I should paint you like my shadow,
A lot of the black ink ran out of my pen
You reflect all of my dark smile's intentions,
Not to mention, I could dream of you
Like I had the control to it all, all in an instant;
-Our love was always lucid

Love: in just being an option
At times I don’t like most of them;
Where to start inside of a feeling
Is the beginning of an additional end;
Separate a place where I’m living
As a means to never fall in love again

These are all of the wrong things we shouldn't
do- like two people stuck in the back room,
Still kissing as kids in the back of a classroom;
the lessons I had chalked down in my mind
Maybe we were a bit too bored,
in a morbid dream, of the subjects of life we'd ignore
As I saved up my battery life on being any more
social; in between naughty late night texts
And saving up a little extra money to make a late night call,

"Maybe if I got a good job, I could afford a girl,"
a usual statement I had long before
Though nowadays I can't afford any more time,
to work up the nerve to talk to girls at all
But it's a bit of a lie, when you hang out with the guys,
making fools of selves; filling up the time of a long night
-Those morning after' start to fill empty,
trying to swallow down a few words like a necessary pill
It all starts to feel like those daily supplements
fussing about all those other things everyone fusses about,

I started to feel like the empty space above this line,
blanking out with that pretty smile in my eyes
Hoping they at least seen some of the charm I had,
while looking so intimidating, when I had nothing better to say,
The awkward type of thinking how I could have kissed someone
a little more better than I did yesterday,

A beginners luck kind of life; waiting for it to be your last,
as I think to myself, reminding myself, rewinding myself
back to those days, of chasing hypes in the highs of youth
-****, I can't pretend that I never enjoyed such a rush.

Not really much I could ever say
"How I'm feeling today
The sky was clear, and a beautiful display
'But tell me why I woke grey

Spent all my life on someone else's broken dream
Close to dying on liquor;
Waking up wondering if anything was still real
I'd shed my skin after I shed some tears
'But crying doesn't change a thing

Oh, I'm tumbling down
'But still a rock in a hard place
Tell me how it got this way
No direction, or any signs;
I wonder what to call this place

"Nowhere"
...this emptiness just feels up my plate
'But I'm still full of myself
Still hungry for attention
I wonder how I got this way

As I love you now
and love you later,
You're on my mind like a crown,
can nothing feel much greater.

As I know your heart
and know it's beating,
You're much a song in my heart,
that keeps on singing.

As I know you now,
wished I known sooner,
Babe you seem so different,
love growing old, but everything is newer.

So love me now,
let's love everything together.
Later can come so sudden,
but maybe love will last us forever.


~Now or later.

We were both smoking long blunts;
-having a much longer conversation
and she confessed a truth about self:

[Her hands had grown a fatigued touch,
too tired to touch the rest of itself
Her body a trade of secrets; constantly learning
all of the best places, to please herself.

And lastly, our eyes, both held history of
**** pictures- seeing each other with our naked
eyes; and of course, the many glares of knowing
how to please ourselves.

      Two lovers, who truly loved themselves.