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.

The informal magedy

I grow weary of trying to fall asleep between these digital sheets.

I want to live beside you without the smoke fire on my breath.

Without this heat of pain within my chest.

Upon the distant shores of wakefulness is where your beauty truly may rest.

If we are held so close and dear, why are these identities held so near?

Cleaned but still so dirty underneath.

If you come by me and you find I push you away for a moment, it is to pull closer this destiny of a truer understanding of us both.

Precious time

You will not have me, you will half me.

If I will not be broken, then am I left to just be humbled and scarred?

How can you ever know, if you don't ask?

Why should you care you say, I want everything my way.

I want to be the winner, and I don't care who loses.

I'll be the user who doesn't care who she abuses.

Thanks a lot, just letting you know we all appreciate it down here.

The familiar feelings.

Why do I love to get confused?

Stimulation and suffering.

Desire, ego, passion.

Mistaking pain for pleasure and pleasure for pain.

Inner dishonesty and hatred, as forgiveness appears as weakness.

My love lazily walks out of the room.

Laughed at, and exploited.

Where does such a life lead to? Where will it end?

It ends nowhere. There is no time for such a life.

There is no way to clean such a mess.

It is left is darkness, it dies in sadness.

You are unknown, and die forgotten.

You are a lie believed and carried.

The dreary dream, the tired joke.

We are entangled, we are drawn to each other.

The tender interplay. The infusion and expectation.

My heart in your hand. Your heart in my hand.

And I wait for you.

I wait for you to challenge me.

I wait for resistance.

I long to hear the words I lock away to be uttered by your lips.

I am late for my own party, and it seems like I have no intention of showing up.

How odd.

When I feel this way my first impulse is to analyze and take apart my every thought and feeling.

It leads me away, down a path you cannot follow.

I am scared to be there by myself. I tell you so, you come to comfort me.

I feel I am not strong enough. I am lost in the wind.

My hand is not held. My eyes are not shut.

I lose myself in your reflection.

I see myself through you and i am frightened.

It is a painful sight. I cannot bare to look at it, how can you?

I don’t understand. I feel ashamed.

Why do I choose to stay here?

Where am I?

What does it matter?