I'm either

Grounded
Or burried
Or floating

And the world is either

Unmoving
Or too fast
Or too slow

It either
Ignores
Suffocates
Or points its finger

And I feel either

Nothing
Or too much
Or numb

Her hair so soft, so Luscious and bright.
how grateful I am to be here tonight.

You look like an Angel no others compare,
To be with you so little, it is not fair.

You're Gorgeous, you're Beautiful, you're such a Sweet heart.
What more could I say about you, where do I start?

My Darling you are amazing, more than you know,
The blood to my heart you make it flow.

your own demons
give you strength
when there’s no one
to hold onto
that’s why they’re
so hard to let go.
your demons reek fire,
and your energy flares to life,
angry hatred is stronger than ever.

rearrange.

fail flee feel

that! feels more write.

we fail at 90% of out endeavors;

we flee to the recesses
and the excesses;

we feel, most keenly,
our sense of loss,
and yet the inner linings of our
cells, once more greet a Sun-day that marks a mild fresh-ness and our involuntary ****** muscles bend
intro to a small smile,
and once more,

we breach the day with right hooks of positivity, warmth, music, and begin  to
remember  to
    feel feelings, assorted,
and we minutely reborn and the fluids of birthing are wiped away

and coffee seals the deal...and a hopeful day begins and forgiveness
and forgetting is the clean start clothes we dress ourselves within,
and with out, comfy jeans, well worn raggedy t shirt that you refuse to obey, expressly forbid her

to descard,
(not a rypo).
and you annoy her
with twenty kisses,
cause you don't want to spoil her,,,
too much

The walls of stone staggered,
as those innocent looking eyes
sought an entry
into my inner world.
If a brick was dislodged,
the whole fence fell.
If a spring flower blossomed
out of an icy condition.
“Pluck it out, stomp on it.”
The manner in which he spoke,
its softness, its kindness a ruse.
Walls of stone crumbled.
Ice dissipated into mist.

Closed my eyes, my ears,
and shut out all my senses.
He reached out,
brought me a bouquet of spring flowers,
and a rhythm of the seasons.
A man like that was worth a chance.

It speaks to me
hold your breath
feel my skin
underneath.
It speaks to me
hold your neck
feel my sweat
underneath.

Surrounded by ideas and plans,
you were paving your own way—
an American, Chinese, or European dream,
it all looked like the perfect world.

In chasing that vision,
you lost sight of yourself.
Stirred by the illusion’s chaos,
you chose to listen to a fairy.

That grand design in your mind,
planned out over a lifetime—
how much it shapes
what you allow yourself to feel.

One life, one chance:
follow who you want to be.
Stop forcing, stop pretending—
don’t chase who you “should” be.

Your great magic puzzle—
you can shift it however you wish.
Step outside your own design,
and let yourself feel again.

Rodeado de ideas y de planes
estabas preparando tu camino
sueño americano, chino o europeo
todo parecía un mundo perfecto

En la búsqueda de ese mundo
te olvidaste de ti mismo
la consciencia de una ilusión agitada
a un hada decidiste escuchar

Tu gran proyecto mental
que planificaste toda tu vida
cuanto influye, en lo que
te permites sentir

Una vida una vez
sigue lo que quieres ser
de forzarte y obligarte
no sigas lo que debes ser

Tu gran rompecabezas mágico
como tú quieras lo puedes mover
sal del esquema de tu vida
y permítete volver a sentir

Listen.
Stop not listening.

I’ve been tapped.
Sap bleeds.
It stings where sweetness lives.

Give me your ears.
I’ll torch ‘em to caramel.
I don’t need your lips,
your yowls, your static.
But taste.

Just ******* syrup.

Your screech gnaws
at the stem of my melody.

Eat the fruit.
Chew the pit.