Love is or it ain't. Thin love ain't love at all.
Toni Morrison
A smaller region and awkward sequence,
combined with the longest climb only to fall, off the deep end.
Lonely and all the time, showing the wrong vehemence.
Talking, being so often beaten by a controlling cause,
and depletion of coping with all your awful pretense.
It's taken an entire year, my desire to be behind your fears,
has turned into cries and tears, once designed for cheer.
Now a burning reminder of why I'm still alive but sheer.
Any opportunity to provide a clear escape, I deny and peer,
through a window of truly what I dream to know.
She's a soul, of so much more freedom, so
much more blood to bleed and soak,
into my need to hold. Love for what?
But even though, I seem to remain confused.
When she plays her tune,
a song of devastating muse, the claws of decimation choose, myself,
dissolved before I'm strained and bruised.
The only way to decay the truth, is if I lay with you.
And we've made it through, as the greyest moon
displays the route we take, removed from the basics,
attuned to the fate of truth, creations brew,
beneath the deepest reaches of the landscape we grew.
And we've seen the shine, of the recent times,
a frequent sign of weakened lives, meek and trite.
Patiently, waiting for the demon's knife.
Knowing the same release is haven to the seeds of life.
And we've known the threshold that's left,
a soul unkempt, when you look at the rose, content
to grow and get shown then left in a hole, dispensed.
So intense, immense the way you unfold the stress.
Like a flesh disease that enters me, erodes my chest.
All the stress you could have kept from me controls my death.
But I can't take myself away from your growing strength.
It's hard to explain, harder to play in the market of days.
Time so defined, impossible to be bartered away.
It's simple though, as much as the list will grow.
You're like a glimpse of snow, falling through our mistletoe,
and like the pistol's smoke, after impact is decided.
When we crash were reminded, why we exactly collided.
It seems like a disaster but after some time its,
like a track we'd rewind, played to hear the passive defiance.
You capture the silence in your masterful eyes,
but still snap into violence, impact like the axe of a giant.
I can't just deny it... it's like perfection withers to nothing,
or a simple flame, that usually flickers erupting.
Some tempted pearls, strung together with the world's dreams.
Another letter and a girl's scream, a sunken treasure.
Nothings better than your lips moving, quick soothing,
brisk, freezing mine to yours with a shooting mist.
A time when I tried to score, instead I died in a violent war,
crushed like the dinosaurs. Applied force with computer chips.
Living life for the structural eye-sores and commuter trips.
Fewer sips of that liquid omen, instant frozen
and broken wrists from that simple motion.
A written, spoken indifferent chosen list of insisted notions,
that rarely happen, such is a man's luck.
Excalibur brand trust before he can stand up,
then thrown back to the solid ground in some handcuffs.
Surrounding words in a tantrum of contraband lust.
A simple metaphorical image, instead of horrible rhythm.
We walk together, a connected system of an oracle's vision.
Some say it's too heavy to capture in your cloth netting.
A slightly off centered setting, the wrong bedding.
I can't believe we talked letting the raw get a grip.
Practically assault, my fault?
Yes it is.
Natural Sin
__________________
"To be Great, is to be Misunderstood." - Emerson
Estimated Record:
41-6
3x RSTL Champion
AIM: Sacrificemcee