exploiting thoughts and feelings,
giving words to meaning,
and emotion,
coasting on an ocean
that we both feel.

we both feel.
the tears you cry
wet my eyes too.
i speak that shade of blue
cause i speak what you speak.
i'm a part of you,
you're a part of me
and its half, half, whole
until its whole, half, half.

i satisfy the random thoughts
and brillant complexities of your mind.
life begins at the core,
but reaches the surface.
i surface the surface just to breathe again,
but i'm going back...again.

in the background of my heart there are hidden truths,
there is a maze of obstacles that have no brochure.

God-given, mine is not a blackened hole,
you can trek the journey to the center of my soul, but
you'll never be the same, are you sure you want to go?

Time continues to chase its smoky breath. Believing the footsteps have slowed, bones grow cold. A downpour of flowers serenade my abrupt exit, yet nobody knows the hurt. Nobody knows the damage done. They may not create an ambiance of melodic memories of peace, in my wake, in my supposed defeat. Memories of childlike smiles broken only by the lack of time. Wondering if the keeper of the keys to the hall of fame will ever utter my birth-given name. A priceless masterpiece painstakenly painted by love only to be destroyed by hate, jealousy, and prejudice. The dust unearthed serves only to fossilize the legacy of truth or to bear witness that it once existed and brought with it an unconquerable fire. Watch it burn. Burn the tongues that oppose it. Burn the boundaries that spend their lives trying to contain it. Watch it burn past experiences never to forget the sacrifices and blessings unseen. Unseen but inescapable. Whether or not truth and love are withheld the heat will still be felt. It will not be denied. Time does not stop and love will still burn.

I'm running out of bullets, leaving everyone for dead.
Bullets - forming from thoughts, rambling in my head,
And becoming projectiles, from the words that I've said.

Collectively attacked, mine is a slow death.
I've been pricked, beaten, and bruised until all that's left,
is a massive headache, surrounded by a bloody mess.

Though my list is endless, I'm on my last breath.
My weapon's seen better days, and there's only one bullet left.

Solution to all problems, best idea yet,
Embrace my life, close my eyes...
I'll use, this bullet for myself.

Snuff the Bliss, the honeymoon is over,
Grab your pants or pull up the covers,
Smiles have faded and our clothes are dated,
The life that we have longed for has now come to pass.
He scraped his knees on the pavement and is stained from the grass,
Trying for first and always getting last,
And the old lady said that this too shall pass.

There is no light at the end of the tunnel,
Only an old man walking away with a candle.
“Mister, why does that candle still burn,
is it for the hope of a better tomorrow,
or the truth of the doom that is to come?”
The answer is, why do sober people crash?
And the old lady sings that this too shall pass.

Yeah, it’s pretty, but what does it do,
It carries no function, therefore it is not true.
Invalid in all aspects, beauty is the curse,
Vanity and sanity draws a thin line in the sand.
The world goes to Hell depending upon Man.
It’s as dead to rights as the ghost of Cash.
We watch all the demons in the light turn to ash
And the old lady screams that this too shall pass.