As long as someone is willing to hear then you can be found, when everyone refuses to listen then you are truly lost

gave up the cause, it is not me, but a distorted reflection of who i wish i was

no more dreaming, it is for fools, and i foolishly believed

Inspired by-
29.jpg of What she said


Her hair rises like the curtains
drawing up to unleash a symphony
of heat from the most lustful of musicals
Her neck exposes itself for my vampyric
thoughts to salivate over but all I can
do is whisper to it, giving her
succulent life through my own breath
deep, warm, and slowly evolving
Geese fly across her skin as the
nail tip glides down the most
sensational of nerves from nape to
high curvature and around the softest
of resting spots for hands to be
The firm softness of her bosom
form images of heavenly divinity
where the heathens pray for
enlightenment and the innocent
worship for the drink of life
The eyes know a secret far too
dangerous to spread randomly
only the purist of the sinners
may know what lies in those
deep pools of molten satin
But the smile sets her apart
shyly, slyly hiding behind the strength
of her form where she can
softly manipulate what her
will will allow forever challenging
your conception of what should be
and what should only exist in our
imaginations

This Is It
-inspired by

My wall my extension
sprayed self portraits
my yearnings my learnings
for critics to see
words of wisdom
confided to all
who can witness
my glory my fame
my brush with immortality
where my colors are masks
worn to hide what unknown
that my wall truly possesses
my wall is art

my water my mirror
displayed self images
to receive to believe
for critics to ignore
puddles of industry
underfoot of all
who can hide
to walk to splash
my flirting with mortality
where my ripples are messengers
ride to warn of unknown
that my water truly possesses
my water is art

my...she
who's she
who's she who stands by my wall
who's she who stands in my water
who's she to unhinge the mask
who's she to calm the ripples
who's she to confront the unknown
who's she to make me wish

she is...
she is what my wall worships
she is...
she is what my water praises
she is...
she is art.

Is this the end
of the trail
the decline
of my decadence
will I be remembered
for i am
or just the guy
that the guy
that you know
thought he knew
embrace me
disregard me
it makes no difference
not at the end
and the end
is all that matters

be the echoing silence
be an after thought
be a subtle reminder
be a quiet whisper you think you hear in the dark
be the vocal masses
be a lasting impression
be a loud and boisterous revelation
be the last remorse rang out before Armageddon lays to waste
let your words become
let them define
i am...I AM
the decline can wait
so much more
much much more
needs to be said
to be forgotten
at the end