#poems&notes

Do you remember when our lips first kissed? I inhaled your air, temporarily you became a part of me and as with everything I exhaled you away. Venomous is your oxygen. Killing me with your care,

As your care patiently numbs all feeling. Fatal love, an end with you I will meet my death. My lips cling to yours as I waste away

What seems worthy but worthless breath of my life Because Only you listen to the voiceless voices that speak inside. What started as an act of attention turned to an affair of relief. Fatal love, my access of release I feel my tensed body ease each time we speak.

Every night I lie with you, I lay in the sheets of death

But still, precious is that very moment.

Tangle with me as I hang on the very edge, only you should see the last of my days

After all "all the world is a stage."

But do you remember when we first kissed? Did you feel how I felt?

How quickly I fell under your spell.

Funny how heaven felt like hell when you held me, to let me fall for you, I recall you say “just pretend you flying down to me”. I could keep you in my heart but my pockets are all the rooms I have left for you. You stand the only wrong thing that ever felt right. fatal love be the love in my end Let your ends be my end even though you expose me to all feeling except heaven.

Fatal love, you are the rising soon to dissipate smoke from my burning heart.

 And though now I bid you not adieu, sweet may your farewell be

Momentarily I drift in more shades of each day  each day. Trying to recapture a moment that eludes to be possessed by the memory string of my mind. My only chance at having, is not having The truth is sore, hurting the more it heals, at least it’s how I feel, well most of time.

the only relief  lies in my pen when I rhyme

momentarily I have power of over the speed of time

momentarily I possess the glass holding the sand of the hour

momentarily am in control, in an instant, over the  distant distance

spaces of space and time.

Momentarily I drift In more shades each day, fading into my colorful darkened

The Sun appears too Bright for this life Time passes too swiftly for this Time. The blue painted Sky above seems too real

I am not a Ghost but everything rushes right through me. 

Pain, Love, Lust, all Deny me a Touch. With a Pinch upon my skin I attempt to thin some sensation of reality to my senses. My mind wandering in the chambers of my wondered mind, staggering in its quest to find amusements of reality in the Museums of my heart. The more focused, the blur, the more distorted it becomes to distinguish the distinguishing Factor between Dream and reality slowly but surely my Sanity is losing its gravity.

You see In My Sleep, the world seems more live. It Rains in Pours, sunshine shines. In the world behind the windows of these eyes, I breathe, am alive in it I can die, never returning to life but in its own way forever immortalized.

In my dreams I cannot not fly

but still I remain a stranger to bounds of gravity. In my dreams my Dreams are dreams nightmares are nightmares but here, see here, Nightmares are Reality and dreams come true.

Heavy thoughts for a light hearted, with frenetic pressure upon my soul

I fail but ask my former self, ‘Am I stuck in some alternate Reality?’

Or wait.. Maybe in my ventures as child I've died in the adventures.

It could bet that, that burning bush we lit in its blaze maybe did set me alight, Or am I still stuck between the Screams and the Tears that shouted in echo of her labor room eyes?. Am I yet to be born? Am I the Barry Allen of this world?

Or Will all this just Be shades In Fades of faded Memory?

What if right is left and left is right?

What if sanity wasn’t sane and that the mad man wasn’t insane?

Could it be that we only happy because for some undeniable unknown reason we sad

Because sometimes when am feeling down to earth I know I know am to space

But really, am I?

Maybe I have been declared mentally ill

And earth happens to be the institutions I have been sent to

Like snow white I could be in a coffin of glass asleep still

Because I've wished to die, so it could be that maybe my wish was granted and indeed am dead.

Or Perhaps I was hit by a vehicle and like souls that never pass on

I drift in the land of dreams laid afloat in Comas Bed.

I wish to be dead if am alive I wish to be alive if am dead.

But even then

Note-to-God- Rickon

Forgive this sin

 So here I am, standing in his holy presence

just a few meters behind the ranked winged creatures.

I stare as they go before me to bow and marvel his glorious essence

each present to present a unique present.

My eyes widen with awe in their state of gaze as my spirit crusades

To grasp its position of existence,

Sensations of nirvana sensed by my soul, the globe of my eye

Stumbles upon scenes flooded with manner,

My spirit yet combats for balance.

 Lots wife in a pillar of salt, am caught in a moment of still

Still silence brooms my mind, only dirt of what I know not clouds my mind,

For what verifies itself ahead my eyes is a big ask for my eyes to compromise. I begin to die a little inside at how soon my life met End, the big little things I never got to do but preciously

the words I’d never say to you, thoughts fell to the thought growing the feeling that am for the afterlife. In a flash before I could think in the minute of a brink

I felt what felt like hands grip ahold of me, beings floating the ground like elements, effortlessly carried me ahead of the rank.

 The closer I got to his presence, the lesser I could breathe

Almost as if my heart forgot how to beat, failure to endure

My body dropped to knees, in sweat I began to bathe

My soul that drowned in the darkness of its sinful sea

Began to coil, it began to boil for the essence of his light

Penetrated its presence.

Awaiting permission to speak, I kept my face faced at knees.

Granted the chance my body arose as if that of the dead

Now given a purpose to life, I embraced to plead my case.

 “Lord, This web of sin that has entangled my soul

Fastened my spirit in cobwebbed flaw

Disturbs our once connected, communicating flow

With inputs of sinful disgrace and output of holy grace

This web has become a bridge to our modern day brawl

But how much more, shall father and son play tag of war

Wasn’t Christ blood enough for us all?

Was it not the key to free us all?

 I do, lord, I do, I do grasp the idea to find Christ is but simple geography

His arms fairly spread from east to the setting of the sun in the far west

If life ever dragged me south all am to do is look up north

But lord, this Pornography, stained, repeat on my sin biography

Peels the Christian skin of my spirit bones like leprosy,

Day after day I repent, days after then I repeat again

How many letters should you see? Stinking of my apology

Do I exist to live serving and begging for you mercy? But God..

I refuse to walk this life to have my own sins purge me.”

 A sink hole emerging beneath me

Like drowning in quick sand

I was sucked from up, from what felt like up.

My heart kept steady pace of a beat

What felt left of his presence through feet it left in feeling

**everything went black after that**

 Am a sinner but I don’t like to sin but am always sinning

But I refuse to call myself a child of God if every time I close my eyes

It’s to ask for forgiveness. Next time I meet God, am thanking him –RICKON

END OF PART 1

Like light in the dark it invades My Privacy.

An Army of thoughts antagonistically

Matching at My walls of Defense.

In thinking invading is my Arch enemy.

Masked in disguise of friendliness it soothes my heart in pools

of loneliness. My mind in an ocean of its own

Sinks like stones in an ocean of emptiness.

My train of thought corrupted by its tides and waves

Sand of time fall for in minutes and my state of mind compensates

I may have been here for hours, just another passenger

on a ghost Train in thought, am driven

Far beyond retarded, right on the outskirt of insanity. Just in thinking

it invades my privacy.

 Like a rope round my Neck its tightens each second I swallow a piece of life.

The Nightmare awakening in each sleep as I attempt to Dream.

A Monster of my own Architect. My fully formed form of hulk

to my Bruce Burner destroying its creator with each closing in.

it’s the moment in the polar sections of my mind in which am frozen in

liken the wicked wicked wizard, am enchanted by my own magic.

Like the raindrops seeping in floods through the ceilings of my mind

It floods my heart in wishes filled with doubt.

Its the projector rolling the movie of my life of what I could have done

if its force of gravity never weighed me Down.

 In my fears of losing people

I began to fear who I keep

In my fears of falling down

I started to fear where I Reach.

 I have Fears, that my reality

May one day be filled with Fears.

Each night I draw to sleep the dreamers dream

Of dying alone draws near that note Lead in the pencil

Pens Clear. And with pulsating beating of a weary heart

My eyes bulge, my hands shake and my feet tremble.

His upbringing Lurks not in the way of the street But Pends in its manners Its customs accustom him keys of Balance. It’s the element of originality That Remain in his Stanzas Obeying no Rule of its Masters But a practitioner of its Law

In its Imperfection it fashioned out his Flaw It’s the concrete concreted round His Soul The Encounter on his way down to the floor. Yet These streets hold not his Conception It is but a misconception For it holds Foot to his Creation It Grows Root in his Formulation Yet stand but an idea to an Invention.

The lone walks alone begun to clone The streets as Home, when he felt misplaced They stretched to fetch him a Friend In its shades of shadows He mastered to follow The colors that Hallowed of light Within its Devilish endeavors He found demeanors of Christ.

Its Roads give him a path Among its Grades he finds him a Class, As songs of hope are sung By the Rise and fall of the morning sun Here, where Life is a race Inhabited on the Run. He pioneers its trails Of tales that wail of Wisdom In the scales of yesterday Fathering him in times of Guidance Questioning him in Times of answers, yet Bearing not its Mark but Resemblance His Rhyming lines wear not its "hood" But his Gained its acceptance