Page 1 of 5
I cannot stop thinking about you.
It’s been years, and yet you’re still there as vibrant as ever haunting me in such wonderfully wicked ways. Those bright eyes and that smile the devil himself s...
You burn clean through me
With your wandering, lustful stare
Your eyes I can tell hold visions
Of vistas mine have never held
And I think of you now
And so very often
The rhythm is lost to the winds. As if it were one of the threaded pages of a well-read book missing the front cover that was left without care on a green paint-chipped park bench. It has been th...
If thoughts were the currency of the world, I would see you wealthy beyond measure.
Every moment we shared beneath the hanging crescent moon and Summer-kissed sky leaves me lost and on unsteady ...
I have never touched your body, yet I have committed to memory your every curve and bend.
I long for you in spite of good reason.
I want you. Always.
I crave your sex.
You have that good Carolina wisdom
That matches middle-aged gray
Yet you are but a young tender blossom
In what once was a garden fertile
Now boiling in disarray
They say everyone ha...
God Bless Me, Doctor
God bless me, doctor
I am feeling a keen sort of dread
See, I woke up this morning
Breathing short and haggard
Full of pain and regret
God bless me, doctor
I am feeding this ...
There is a volume to the chaos.
A simple yet rhythmic pulsing of regret stained motives circulating within my head. And I am left as a prisoner to each and every musing, wondering as always if t...
Everyone has a philosophy.
Not everyone has conviction.
What makes you different?
I know I am.
You smell of lilacs in March.
I recall so vividly how nothing I could ever have fathomed in my mind would do justice to your soft smile.
You coax from me energy so easily that it feels somehow ...
The idea of you has always been better than the reality.
That saddens me deeply.
Because you could be so much more. You choose to embrace your weaknesses instead of fighting them.
Trust is a spark that without the proper kindling cannot be coaxed beyond its initial barbs of electricity into something substantial, but when the correct material meets pure measure it ignites ...
I write thousands of lines about you in my mind, spinning them backwards and forwards with little pleasure. It’s an obsession. An outlet. It is simple release.
I need it.
Except when ...
It complicates my conscience.
It buries me with sweet, simple sounds.
Your body is a kaleidoscope, and I am colouring in the margins of the fragile moments we eagerly share with a sh...
You are a dream, a fascination of thought, a starlit symphony to which I fall asleep each and every night.
I have so much within me, such a fervor to fight, an endless desire to pleasure you wit...
I wonder what it is that defines a man.
Is it the way a man responds in the face of adversity? When the situation inevitably presents itself in life where there is no good action to be taken, the...
When your lips slowly part
Melodic words tumble forth
As I fall hard
Upon the concrete of desire
I stake my claim
Your voice softens
Now a whisper
It’ll never be the same
You are a sweet, sweet madness.
You never fail to inspire.
I sat down to write, but the words proved elusive. My thoughts felt like concrete, hard and disillusioned.
I think of you every night.
For years I’ve spent my free time imagining you. So many moments. Thinking of you. With me. Wild and without restraint...
I feel that I have been trapped beneath glass, capable of looking out and seeing. Screaming, at times, but my voice contained coolly and completely. A witness to unspeakable things, and all the w...
It’s another moment to breathe.
Another motive to believe.
Allow for development, a heightening of the senses, without restriction by the sentiment of who you are marrying who you can be.
Tonight I am chemical free, but so far from you and me, and I have no hope of possibility to ever so eloquently confess to be the proud man that I used to be that enthralled you so eff...
There are moments in life where all we have to hold onto is our own sense of self, whatever remains not crushed beneath the ebbs and blows of time, conflict, and circumstance.
There’s oft no jus...
Tell me sorrow
Thy own true name
The howling winter withers
Seeks marks to blame
Relations stripped and strained
The candle mourns; flickers
And you are gone again
It’s November 11th.
Make a wish, y’all.