Verse

It is surmountable, the thought of you. Yet every few days, I am reminded of how disgruntling the situation looks. Looking back at your messages leaves me mixed, I cannot tell if it was genuine, I am ambivalent. Potential was brimming over yet looking back, it must have been a trap... right? Your intelligence and presence is cunning, combined with the attention you gave reached my blind spot. Oblivious to your red flags even now I catch myself doubting my decision. I believed you saw value in me, I believed you wanted to spend time with me, I believed you loved me. Because you said so. our timeline was you the moon and I the watcher, the golden crescent began to rise, I admired your beauty, A mere human gazing at your ego, as big as the sun. then you were too dark so that I couldn't look at you anymore, too busy for time to talk you said, for anyone, you said. I thought you were empty, longing for what you could grasp. So I hoped to love you back, because I felt the same way about things that I thought you felt in me, I gave you everything I thought I could. Time. Friends. Heart-to-heart. An ear. midnight arrives and you stare down on me, a new moon something changes, unlocking the monsters inside thee. I realize now you probably laughed me to scorn, that I was so willing to care. i put in much thought, so much so I found the perfect friend for you, and begged you to take him instead of me. however you wanted prey, since you thought he was stronger than I and as the moonset the true sun begins to rise, the two of you overlap before my very eyes, the devils horns at this eclipse shook me back into reality. Past your insanity I could only see, inattentive to the detriment that you could be. That should have only been the reason for me to leave. And when I did, I was your fool, you went and used what I gave you, the perfect friend, attention, and care all yours, and I had nothing to spare. The claims of being busy, needing time, all lies. But it is alright, because I arrived at the conclusion that anything that touches you I shall not eye. Or... maybe in the end my spectulation reflects your ignorant dissimulation, living in a psychotic reality a bat for a mind, living.

Concepts in which Color Resides The Colors are pillars, and pillars are Colors, This is a mystery for those who want creativity, A connotation of Color in a code, as color affects the world. *** The first pillar worked itself largely, mixed with only one used abroad. One of the purest founding fathers, the colors say, "Hail Almighty!" Loathing its mind in darkness, It spreads quick but thick, Its eyes are chasms in the mist, cold as an abyss. *** The second pillar was bright, as sunlight in the eyes, its partner is the night, in the vacuum, it's of the stars. It is fertile; it spreads its passion, it's like time; there is always more. However, it questions itself, saying, "There are so many sects of me, who am I to be?" *** The two pillars are Color, encompassing others, working to balance each other out, being one of the same, constructed the way of neutrality and ambivalence. Then something built up, inside of the second shaft, it quickly broke and shattered into many shades of attack. It transformed into something unknown, it couldn't take it and became their own. Seven pillars born out of second, each still had some of that one. *** The first pillar of the second, came out thrashing and hard. It had two-sides, beckoning, mellow and tar. From the depths of communism and socialism, it was a bold leader, all said, "Heil thee!" But the same felt compassion beyond its belief, Allowing it not to be touched by stress or grief. *** The second pillar of the second, came through smiling and bold. Its tale has not always been told, It is truly swell to recollect. It was known as "Naranja" to the archaic, Like the sixth pillar, it is sporadic. Its mellowness is regarded highly, it's respected as the royal and mighty! *** The third pillar, An odd fellow for sure, It always gets mixed up, With the second pillar's trail of dust. *** The fourth pillar was juicy, lively, like rain, the smell of terrain. Creeping things, and flying fowl, the representation of all living things. The Figure uses it, renewal, understanding, patience, one man represents it all: the fourth man. *** The fifth pillar is gracious, sorrow with lamentation. Royal in sadness, fit for no madness. The three mediums made of it, The waters, atmosphere, and space. The Figure tries to explore it, But it sometimes retaliates, quenching the force of death. *** The sixth pillar was mighty, pure and unique, soft and mellow, bold and abrupt, played like a cello, encouraged with its rarity, it says, "I am unique." *** Then the Figure took of the pillars and rubbed them in the deep, allowing their imagination to be shown, In their own way, they cracked the code, they created something original, beautiful, the world as we know. *** Be the Figure, be the workman, pour out your heart. Use the pillars on your canvas, crack the code, fulfill your dreams.

Deep from within, Their appendages have no bounds, They make deep wells of old, Spelling out scribbles of languages unfound. They form sentences that combine, To paragraphs that rise Finding the sun. Their blechs coat my lungs, A sterile nature's kiss, Untouched by the harsh hand, Untouched by our chemical lands. They grow high and wide, To the side then up, Finding the sun. Their bark grabs my attention, Clear of blood's acne, I find it hard to believe That such a beauty exists. Whose million scutes and plates, Cover up tender flesh, Finding the sun. Among the peaceful gatherers They stand unique from all, Parallel to both the earth and siblings, They are like a two pronged awl. They fork the sky between their hands, Finding the sun.

The stars fall and rise in manifold shapes A hand births out of the matrix of space These eternal lights of a thousand yonders Form the hand that judges dishonor It moves about with skill and cunning work Craftmanship, sweat, and tears like a surgeon In the distance, always moving, it changes lives in an instant, and elicits fear It cuts and scrapes along the earth Separating the East faction from the West whose lights cannot find their way through the crossing border of 80 miles everglades And in the middle, these manmade stars shine death upon those who sing and cry hating and praising the chaos on each other's sides the hand is the balance between war and a fight

Alluring sounds Bellow the Cerulean seas while Daunting depths keep Everyone away from Fearlessness and Gallant actions Harboring ironic I rolls. The sailors Jeopardize nothing, keeping Keratin in their hair. Lacrimosa thinks the sailors Mean death and apathy Nonsense! Such useless Opulence! Profoundly grandiloquent Quixotic jibber-jabber about sailors' Reluctance to go out to Sea. To say sailors seek Voraciously into the depths is quite Unheard of. So When the seas allure with Xylophonic vibrations don't expect sailors to go Yonder into this sea of Zozo

Open-concept spacious rooms Occupy the effervescent living and Overt quarters, darkness' manumission Often coating the walls till night falls I awake to blackness as if I haven't opened oblivion my eyes. I stand. The hall is calling, I pass into the open space. Far deep into the kitchen on the wall, a door without a frame darkness creeps, the entrance to oblivion Ingress into a silhouette, a cactus resides It sponges sound into silence floating toward me slowly gliding through the kitchen where concoctions of blackness diffuses Through the living room, passing the sofas which soaked up my musical concerts of youth and belting akin to the Jacksons The sweat of Wii Sports coats the white granite floors oblivion swinging in tennis throwing bowling balls My heart drops into my diaphragm breathes deep, racing mind oblivion I contemplate a strategy, facing the deathly silence: unknown. Seven feet tall a menacing silhouette gets closer to my frozen corpse, the cactus of destiny I run down the hall towards the game room scouring oblivion the cactus follows close behind the flat screen reflects the darkness somehow oblivion I run to the wet bar open a cabinet and squeeze in Puppy, my favorite stuffed animal, lays Sarge, another, joins Jaguar protects me in her loving arms one of my old blankets suddenly wraps around me the cabinet opens on its "own accord." the silhouette is free once again and I can only send it back I reach out, and it fades to black: oblivion

I — Pitter Patter I remember the Island of Rainfall, in a hut of palm. The roar of cumulonimbus shakes all. Thousands of stars fall, coating each blade of lemongrass. A chunky bee bumbles and buzzes through nature's whispers. The metropolis fell ill-ly silent. Am I soaking wet? A raindrop hits the sizzling concrete. II — Away I remember a muggy day in Alabama. Where the zephyrs turned to darkness. The sky was sick with green clouds, and the trees grew grays, The cattle moo miserably, and dogs growl in suspicion. Do these signs fall on deaf ears? You hear a train, and you see the tears.