I know I could come up with better poetic lies,
but I'm turnt up on sins,
and
I love you

The beach was still and silent.

Even the birds had found new playgrounds this winter,

A desert landscape with only our footprints to bear,

And yours were heavier than mine.


We ran and ran and felt like we got nowhere.

Couldn't dent that stretch of land no matter how hard we tried,

I lied and told you I hadn't been there before,

Lying to you never felt right.


And when the new sand blew,

It covered up our sins white lies and false apologies.

A clean slate and those things didn't matter anymore,

It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw.

You can lock me up but can't lock up my mind,
Can't change who I am,
You can **** me but can't **** my spirit,
My soul can't be taken from me,
I'm prayed up and covered with holy water,
The baptism of my sins,
Ain't perfect but my old ways are gone,
I've reincarnated my soul and been given a new one.

Nothing is forgotten,
Karma is very much real,
We have to answer to things we do,
How we treat others will come back upon you,
I've confessed my sins,
I've been forgiven,
But nothing will ever be forgotten.

Take a long look within yourself,
You shall see past the surface,
The element of our ways aren't always right,
You can't see nothing when you you're stuck within yourself. Open yourself up not stay closed off.

We can see more than ourselves,
If we step outside of ourselves,
There's more to the world than ourselves,
Life has more to offer than we realize,
I took a step back and realized that for myself,
Life has gotten better when I became better.

Writing a poem for the sake of writing a poem.
I’m feeling emotions. More than ten.
Emotions that numb the toughest of men.
Even after all these exercises on Zen
It still feels like I’m falling apart at the hem.

But it’s all good! Isn’t it? I’m here.
Living through it with fear
Just ordered a double gin and some beer
But the mere feeling evokes a tear
and leaves me kneeling at the gateway of those emotions.
Dripping all over me like hot lotion
Without commitment or devotion.
And everything feels like it's slow motion.

So apparently it’s normal. To feel things.
They say all the stings and the pings are worth it
because we’re not supposed to be perfect,
and ‘these feelings need to be nurtured’.
*******. It’s all a bit perverted like a lie that's murmured.
This ******* feeling is so determined that I can't win.
If I do, I'll be singed and pinned
Even though I haven't actually sinned.
Yet I'm the one writing this poem. Not her.

Where the **** is that beer?
So I wrote this. This poem. Here.

my hands are full
and my fingers are breaking
for counting my sins
and all of my flaws.
so i apologize
if couldnt hold myself together.

a word hasn’t been spoken since,
humble abode, you ever seem?
exchanging praises and jolly sins,
with a mouth full of lies
what does that mean?