if your hand could reach inside my heart, what would you do with it

shame on it, spit on it, be through with it

emptiness is the disorder of one soul

better left and apologize than swole...

unpredictable with strayed joy

can only predict a moment of curiosity

as the norm once known; the match will strike abruptly

seeking his revenge on your pure innocence...

to be a pessimist is nothing but a thought

with feelings of hopelessness and calamity

or desperation and sanity

of fear or a mind of grief that is distraught

to a delicate mind who fought

the creation of death with bloodshot

eyes to only prove his humanity

improvising his ways of optimistic christianity

of one moment perspiring of a fatal gunshot

when one of himself is of great despair

h...

i want to feel, i want to know

where the lover guides, for he will go

he roams with terror against his limbs

the words then breach, against our skins

i want to love, i want to grow

to weep the cries, it shall never show...

the revelation of sins can only be described

as a feeling of hopelessness

hands of the helpless love of nothing

to a creation of devotedness

the structure created is lower than such

of an individual to be favorable and motiveless...

to finish is only to begin the

falling of cascades and christ taking over

the ultimate joy is summoned by spirits of sadness

that can no longer be healed of anger

when your pupils dilate, the white noise fades as

your savior once said...

an absence of the mind can only lead to serotonin

when your words no longer caress the lips of my sympathy

you are an idol in the sun that consumes the void of my darkest days

truly, the purest image of myself

without the water and the herbs, i would be nothing

without you, i would be nothing...