aching for the fire that shaped my soul, the passions I buried return in soft hues
as if the ghost of Nemesio Antunez paints behind my eyes
a flame dimmed, but never gone, at the bottom of the pond echoing songs
efforts to rekindle the natural flow, the irony
I watch myself become the sky, in the spiral we despise
for lack of better words / doors cracked, doves settle, & swords cut the lure
eyes dim behind the warped doors, beyond the void God is studying me
the mental year / the distant shore / intrinsic manure & static tears
lusting over erratic fears, the choice to check out is only yours
what if my mind remembers what the soul refuses to forget?
the mental year!.!.!.! / calendar carved in chaos and mirrors cracking inwards... glaring intensely
the clinging of a million feelings, weighing down this dying star... me (David) or whatever
sorrows of the mind / escape the signs / keep my eyes blinded and my heart 1 sided
juggling feelings in her indecision, dissolving truths in a blurred revision
"WHO'S CHECKING WHO WHEN WE GET TOO PROUD AND A LITTLE DISHONEST?" - Mk.gee
stitching thoughts together with my false precision, colliding distant hearts in a quiet collision
I wonder and wonder about experiential renditions of my superstitions  
some nights never end, they just echo somewhat... softer / i remember the feeling not the time
maybe I can find the lover in me, or create a better me....
I forget the words to songs but I remember the silences, I need to work on that
perhaps there’s nothing to find, but to unveil
stirring thoughts with a fiery oak spatula, some kind of style eh?
single barrell, background blasting Daryl, bouncing off the walls feral
you can't reference my sentence without custom tinted lenses, my stupid perception of this hollow dimension... extensions of our subjective experience
looking at smiles I’ll forget, maybe I was only meant to be remembered, not understood.. but you feel me
passing tensions / the lack of sensations / hands once warm now hold suspicion
world of musings, burn the script and the notes that stroke my ego and make me bricked the **** up!!!!
I’m bored at work today.
Think a thot up until it’s a vanishing thought.
chefs kiss
peace with both hands like Nixon
Oh my my; another deep *** sigh, this some sauce