#retardedinsanity

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

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

Dare think too highly of thy self, for you fall but a memento of the past and only thy words present you in my present, you stand nothing more than mere fragments of what could have been but isn’t and can only be at the call of my wish.

but think highly of thy self for you value more to me than what you perceive you are worth, for only i understand your beauty and know its reasons, only i can trail the missing beauty in your figure, only i and my eye can pin point your true point of beauty, only my mind can map  the spatial distribution of your personality, using its grids as reference i think i have come to find who you are.