In name of our fair king and for sake of poets a dream as love for lovers might be, the reason. Dont be afraid, my dear ones.

In affair rather public the matter known that means but so little much to me as an ache  of a souls thats hungry what dawn is for the birds to sing a bit too soon and wine for the drunken to laugh without a clue is my permission as spoken to i am to speak to adress the youth and the power behind the wheel thou not too soon as still at spin. To advice as adviced by own hearts council.

"Zacnem na konci, aby som skoncil na zaciatku." Wise man once said. Among other in his right. Man is free! And that be sacred to any that wish to ever walk with God. Rumors out of my will at fold them vicious hearts way to wish so much injustice upon their fellow men. Whatever threat the reason. May keep days up at nights. Whatever guilt. Whatever philosophy they mind rotten by undecision twisted by silent lies way untold kept still in its core of their own bloodlines to suffer what answers wrong how nothing hurts and how long it does unknowingly and unknown and untill. Doctor of the sick like flowers because of the spring. The summer.

At the meet of a soul of any at terror name you call kind the spirit and ask: is it justice or injustice that you suffer? Are you beautiful or are you rightous? For merci you ask and for merci you answer.

So at the dawn of time, or the moon in vain, sun is no more by nor shadows it casts. Yet the charm truly charming the call of the spell bold the man and foolish the heart adviced set on the road sent to advice the same by its own council.

I appeal your soul to mind near and love the words as i cherish that house they praise. Our home this land. To protect my interest, for dear to me. From strangers that would treat as somebody elses and enemies that would find it to be a threat and brothers, because you have sinned. And because you are. I know because i am. Youre sins are forgiven. Sin no more. With a deed of washing your hands you shall be resolved. Because i said!

Not your burdon is what i seek, but your trusting heart and an honor of lended ear. Kept in care of doubt. At most i ask for i name my price to be. To ask, be worth a while and of the answer worthy. Men we shall.

Sometimes even in the middle of the night, sweet thoughts of you saunter throughout my mind. Sometimes I let it wander, and I wonder things which I'm sorely reticent I should be thinking..

I dream of you sometimes, whenever I end up dreaming at all. I wonder still what these ideas mean or what importance they hold; what purpose they possibly condone and implore, like a veil of undeniable curiosity drawing lines in sand that beckon and ache to be crossed either way.

Sometimes I wonder what depths these thoughts and feelings may behold beyond that pale fog of what is and "what if," and sometimes I let my mind escape the frail boundaries of reality and imagination just to feel that solemn place even for a brief moment. It pierces me deeply and caresses my very soul to feel your presence even without you beside me.

Thoughts of you whisper dearly to me in echoes of visions of things that have never happened. But I still wonder, even in doubt; I still imagine, even when I deign to ignore what pleasantries it instills to think of you in every fathomable way; and often when I do, my blood may never stand still..

In silent verbal graves, my heart wanders into things my mind has shown it, and it anguishes to understand what could lie beyond the gateway of this world to the one beseeched from within my head.

How simple it could all be for nought, not so far from being as fragile and fleeting as a mere idea, that the moments where I lie within the shadows of deceit to ultimately awake away from these thoughts and visions would be the only thing keeping those dreams to hold me in feigned tranquility: a place I'd rather never awake from to begin with.

I think of you, often, dearly.. I think of you, and I always wonder a million things: every part of your mind and soul. I think of you.

But I think to myself, most of all, if I'm eternally alone in these thoughts; and the night becomes lucid, and I sleep in trifling silence devoid of any dreams at all.

Still, I think, of you.

Romantism at most and best a twenty hours high long and wide with hand to heart i stand and souls to mind so pleased to have to be mine. Let me.

Hope you havent insulted by the way of my habit to force the willed. Let me inside give power to hungry for love, with grace i am at most pleased.

Three steps to learn to teach to cry and dance the sad dance of gods i was called and thrilled first a little sting as pain turns to releave and stay pleased.

For a promise to be given all of everything to last the least a way to fall in love a chance to get addicted in line stone wise men breaking and crushing.

Drinking wine am told that brings death to ones it doesnt fear, am drunk to have what to put the blame on once the welcome is overstayed. Well be.

Everyday is like the last
Every week a blurry mess
How I wish to make it stop
Just to hurt a little less

But how could I do that
When the reason for all this pain
Is the only thing I cannot fix
The only thing I cannot regain

When what's causing all this pain
Is a pain all by itself
The pain of losing love
That steals us from ourselves

Oh, the beauty of it
That we've all come to hate
And no matter what we do
No one can prevent fate

If id have a wish
Granted to wish
Whatever and anything
In the world
Id wish to forbide
Your heart to sorrow
And ban misary from
For once forever
And tears only of joy
I would add to the law
And hide you away
In my right pocket till
To give the rest of world
In a bag fold by fold folded
To a dot saying: return
To sender, as our little joke
To start a week id cry
To heavens a casual : agrh!
Wrong pocket! And youd smile
Unable to even recall what
that Stupid little thing we love
Even more now as a problem
Of post office to deal with  
and not solve instead of us. Waitin around week by week
To creation.

To think that this pain became nourishment.
They drink it up, you see them.
Fertilizer for the future
waiting under the oaks that grow from our eyes.
Our stories become theirs, taken by time, and then taken again, but no, not writ in the stars.
We wait in the soil while they rise to a world of their own choice.

To think that we, who created so many, do not choose our own end.
Fated to trip on a fell tree, destined to die alone in a shrouded cloak?
Our breath brought unity and hope
but its absence brings us only despair.
The us is important there.
They still have what’s left.

To think that our remnants are crumbs between book pages
Coffee stains on tables, worn
with love but tired still.
We stabbed our arteries for an ink well
Wrote ourselves deep into the paper.
We gave it all up for them, but we loved ourselves all the same.

To think that while they can ascend to heaven
we must fall down to hell.

Oh, the curse of a truth-telling tongue.

Many people wish to die
And I think I know why…

Why ‘cuz life’s just a shake
of the dice!
Gamble fortune!
Gamble faith!
Gamble health!
Gamble state!

Just don’t go a-gambling
for luck to sway, ‘cuz that’s
inviting a very, very
bad man to play

P.S. don’tyougoaskingifthediceareweightedoranythinglikethatbecausethen­you’refuckingaskingforit