My heart won't allow it

I don't think I'm ready.

Ready for L-O-V-E ?

I wish it didn't hurt so

Much

I wish I could erase

All traces of him

From my history

So he'd remain

A mystery

But LOVE is

Always ready

For another round

Love is like HONEY

Once you dip an dip

You can Neva get

Enough of a

Taste so sweet

It's a very much

Needed necessity

A weakness of humanity

To know love nd be loved

One of the closest thing

Too being in heaven

On earth

It's 4am again and this doesn't even phase me anymore because I've never been one to let Lady Sleep call me to bed at a reasonable hour because there's something that I crave when the night wraps its somnolent arms around my section of the planet that keeps my eyes open and I've never found it during the day and I doubt I ever will because I'm getting older and my hair is falling out and the world under the sun has fewer and fewer things that I care to envelop myself in beyond the bare necessities of life because I'm well aware that to wander the world like some sort of ghost isn't going to end well for anyone involved but those people drift farther and farther away and don't you dare tell me that we're not alone because that phone I pay too much for hasn't rung in months.

It bothers me to think that some people aren't in photographs in much the same way that I actively avoid them with my bloated, bug-flesh complexion and form because in a world where people take selfies by the hundred to show off the events of their lives it makes these secret people harder to relate to and much harder to market to because we're a little less than human and our stories will be gone after the moment passes because we didn't try to leave something behind and that's the sort of thing we smile at in our sad little ways with dead, empty eyes and make a joking remark about how it wasn't much of a story anyway and that is perhaps the greatest tragedy to ever be thought of because it's not love lost that breaks my heart but the idea that we aren't worthy of being a part of the human race so we stand on the sidelines because even then we just want to see what it looks like to be alive for only a moment.

I've watched the world and it's something I've enjoyed because if I don't stop to notice the too violet plants and the flowers I'll wonder to myself if the world is as grey and empty as I think it is most of the time in my cynical mind that spends too much time wondering if my senses are fading or if it was all just a dream and my memory gets faulty and I forget what it felt like to be taken into a stranger's family for a weekend or to be the only person walking through the open air market blocks long after the only company I have are the snow flakes and the lamp posts and my thoughts and the music that drove the demons out of my head because those creatures were old and my music was just too loud for their comfort and now I live so very far away from all of those things and I start to wonder if this is really all there is to life and if, perhaps, it is the only thing that truly does exist because I'm no longer there to feel them and I become so self important that the world collapses away leaving only myself and the tiny little box that I navigate in my broken, sleepless cycles.

I eventually give up because my mind starts to splinter and the nagging thought that if I just went to bed I'd never walk over the rough, uneven path that magically appears out of history between buildings and it'd be so much easier but I know that I'd miss that sizzle of magic that I should have let go of a long time ago when I realized there was no happy ending but it drives me to leave crumbs that no one will ever see so that maybe, just maybe, a hundred years from now when I'm long since dead and scattered to the winds there will be another person who finds my bones and thinks my thoughts and doesn't feel quite so alone even if in their hands they carry bits of broken threads and a phone that never rings and a thousand other reminders that not everyone turns out to be the hero or the villain of their lives.

Sometimes it's enough to watch them run by. Sometimes it's just enough to have witnessed it.

I'm that awkward friend who doesn't say much during group conversations

I'm a wallflower camouflaged into the dull paint job

Not wanting to bloom

Not wanting to be myself

I have a fear

Fear of getting close to people

I can't get close emotionally

It takes a lot for me to open up

To be who I am

When others aren't around

The progression can come off as a regression

At times.

And that's just the way I function

So if you've gotten to know me as I truly am

Don't take that shit for granted

I am the way I am to a select few

Because it'll tear me up if I lost one of you

If one of you

Ever say...

"I don't want you in my life anymore."

White washed asphalt

with a game of hopscotch

scrawled on it.

Canvas shoes attack the pavement

with the tenacity

of an army

and a basketball leads the charge.

Somebody popped

a fire hydrant for the kids

and they use it to water

a flower sprouting on the sidewalk.

The Scottish shop keep

sweeps

his doorstep

before moving aside

to let a pregnant woman 

use his store's restroom.

Music flows from a street musician's trumpet

and echoes down the streets and alleys

like Gabriel

and the tired old men

listen and play poker on their porches

and preach wisdom to the young ones

passing by.

They sing Happy Days.

A fickle and feeble

frightened old man

used to make watches,

wound Times' hands

bound them behind 

the glass of the clocks.

Tick Tick Tock

the seconds fade off

and the feeble man

spends his

lunging at them

but they all get away, 

trying 

to capture every moment

with his watches

he fails to see 

that his time is soon to run out.

Death

by grandfather clock.

Will Wings?

you :

give :

me :

Mourning thunder booms

Thru my eardrums shaking

My bed nd I arise wit

A hunger for some milk chocolate

Mixing with my peanut butta skin

Lightening crackles like thousands

Of little whips lashing across

My bare skin as it danced

Amongst the nite sky igniting

My whole bodily currents

Setting my inner core on fire

Sending nymphomania appetites

Of pure pleasure nd pain up nd

Down, up nd down my spine

Once more your very hot wetted

Salacious kisses soothes me as your

Tongue traipse on my BBW curves

Then filtering my inner sanctum

Wit incoherent whispers fueling

Flames of heat that's stroking,

Throbbing nd pulsating like waves

In my hot watery tunnel begging

To be licked ,sucked ,fingered nd

Fucked all at the same time

While prying eyes watched

Mmmmmmm fuck.

I don't think you know quite

Yet what that booming & roaring

Sounds does to me so early

In the mourning it's my

Weakness the aphrodisiac

To my system

Damnnnn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!