Thoughts Do Dwell I feel its trite to die again, though my heart exhales to breathe you in, and time is but another trend as my life defines the meaningless. I watched her the way colors sing for the deaf. Now I see how it bleeds to be blind. Even before touch, You've built dimensions in me. My world is barren now, but with clouds for footholds, there is no choice but to fall towards when My eyes could dream you to pieces, just to see what heaven was made of. Like remembering what never happe...

They say people don’t change. You see we go both ways. And I think. And I think. And I can’t stop thinking. What have you done to me? I’m not who I was or used to be. Is this called moving on? Is this called moving on? I’ve been so scared lately, Without yours, my hands are shaking. Oh baby, I’m taking too long to live Said you loved me one day. Now we’re running away. And I feel. And I feel. And I can’t stop feeling. What have I done to you? You’re not who I loved or then once knew. Is this...

We have traveled all routes of existence and never have I set foot upon more beautiful a scene than its First and Final Destinations.

I've traveled all routes of existence and never have I step foot upon more beautiful a scene than its First and Final Desitinations.

She was so pretty. Right? The whole city’s lights would flutter by… I remember when her momma was giving life to this butterfly. No child could spread her wings like little Jasmine could. She would bring home hands that would carry a lastin’ look. At four, her passion stood in a diary beneath her cabinet wood. Back then, it was packed with goods that her dad had put And, like a fashion book, was littered with Crayola fancies. Somehow, she’d always find the time to paint all those families Cha...

If deception made for a pretty gift, I’d call myself the nicest man on earth and tattoo it to my heart, then leave my scent to linger upon your neck tempting the sky around it to torture your feelings dry; So that when the drought came, I’d offer a basin of deceit, playing the lead role of the gentleman. I’d open entrances for you that led to places you never wanted to go, watching as you stumble between the corridors of where you thought you were and the hell that you’ve always actually been...

Dilapidated memories hang onto the Mahogany branches of your complexion. There’s no fire left to melt the brittle, So passion has its own page to read. The living chapter of your hands Never could skim between the chalk Without having to erase the motives Of my entire star-dotted literature. The silkworms of your robed texture Have become a crime syndicate Of my soul, pressuring innocence Into a battered pulp of misinterpretation. Why then I filed for skepticism, but Only to be denounced by t...

My Broken Butterfly She was so pretty right, the whole cities lights would flutter by I remember when her momma was giving life to this butterfly No child could spread her wings like little Jasmine could She would bring home hands that would, carry a lastin’ look At four her passion stood, in a diary beneath her cabinet wood Back then it was packed with goods that her dad had put And like a fashion book, was littered with Crayola fancies She’d somehow always fine time to paint all those famil...

If ever it were a favor to deceive you, I’d call myself the nicest man on Earth and tattoo it to my heart, Then leave my scent to linger upon Your neck and the entire world To torture your feelings dry; So that when the drought came, It’d be my basin of deceit playing The lead role of the gentleman. I’d open entrances for you that Led to places you never wanted to go, Watching as you stumble between The corridors of where you Thought you were and the hell That you’ve always actually been in. ...