They sold me a minute or self-development...

Sun, and I think I have far too little longer.

I love to love anymore.

You can program in it.

And the lonely stream I have a boat floating.

Please read my island. Please please tell me what it is. I hate it. I do not want to see.

If it is something I am looking for please tell us.

Your story, but tell me, please another repetition.

I just left nanhaji should be fine.

I'm not a bad thing.

My head is a machine that can play on my computer.

I am your "enough" is what gives that there is no good.

You said, "I know a better one sitting. Π be one of the ends to eat."

I was exhausted when I was a war for survival, you need to ask.

What do I do?

What do I do with all this rage?

I sit and let it consume me. I let it bury itself inside me. I invite more in, I want more because I am not full.

Hold this boiling sea inside. Swim through it. It is a stream. There is a fire burning off skin, and burning through this flesh.

Until a skeleton of what was thought is no more. Until what is left has left.

There is a choice to cage, what engaged me. Let it boil again, and again, until there no longer stands a drowning sea.

In the bottom of this ocean look up to the air above the water.

The reflection of the Moon and the Sun glimmer down. Their eyes have not left.

Look at this cell, and look towards its lock. Search for tools. Grow up.

Here the sea is still, the water is inviting. Now floating in the water, there are more choices to be made.

Dough you knead me.

I hear this said a lot, "Don't do this to me."

Sometimes I say, "Don't do that."

At times it is said, "Do not."

Once in awhile I eat a Donut.

Why untie this "not?"

Does this "knot" hurt you or help you?

Hard to tell. Easy to know?

I know I've been wronged, as much as I know I've been right.

I want to love "you." Love you the right way, the way that is right for both of us.

Do we tie knots together, how do you knead me? What will you make of me?

When I brag to you, am I dragging you? Pulling you towards myself.

To measure you, to get a closer look, to know myself and in turn love more.

Oh for pity's sake "love." Have I sucked it all out.

I might as well put in other words now, for feelings are fragments of...

Love is more than a feeling. This I know.

Rolling myself into dust.

I look at my hands, they look like my hands.

I look at my feet, they look like my feet.

Where do you come in? Through the front door? I'm in it again. I heard the back door lock, and checked it too. The slide door slides while I wish for you at my side.

Just then I felt a hand on my shoulder. When it seems to get cold, it starts getting warmer.

I love to keep you and love to be kept by those who wish their tears will be dried while their wept. But weep we may when the rain comes in and there seems no time for play or fun again.
So sad I can be when it is I who practices to live in this mind. Draining a well, that never runs dry.

So I learn to sing you a song when you frown, because I miss you so dearly when you're not around.

So I sit here and try to write you a loving song. So someday we may learn we can truly get along.