hush my sweet,
a rub to feet,
running fingers high,
up along the thigh,
around the curves,
pleasure it all serves,
held closer with hands,
running through hair strands,
gently swirl in places,
covering all traces,
further and deeper along,
feeling the strength grow strong,
touching lips with lips from above,
bringing all for the eternal love.

Haven't written here for a while,
as the words begin to pile,
breaking through the gap,
after taking a minded nap,
what purpose do they serve,
and why do others deserve,
these words which i don't know,
as if just a group to follow,
perhaps a relaxing thing to read,
because i feel a expressive need,
to tell a short story in rhyme,
when i have so limited time.

It is not what it seems,
when we make real our dreams,
why can't it all become true,
for me or for you,
maybe harder we try,
but depths fall from aimed high,
keeping us down low,
where we never grow,
hidden in the shade,
where the memories fade,
forgotten after not long,
like we have done something wrong,
the dreams are all that remain,
to hold tight through the pain,
buried beneath the solid ground,
where we will never be found.

Sometimes i remember a problem the same,
but i can't remember a face or a name,
sometimes i see something quick,
then somehow it will forever stick,
occasionally i repeat something i said,
wondering how it all fits in my head,
Serial numbers i can remember too,
but forget the small details about you,
text written in a manual stays,
but a book is gone in only days,
I remember a movie front to back,
but my childhood remains mixed with black,
specs here and there remain,
if i try to remember i just strain,
given time it may all completely fade,
as time goes on slowly it will degrade,
I am working on those weak places,
but i worry if i improve it just replaces.

To only remain with what was true,
as it can only be about all you,
never a care about what i said,
trying to work it out with my head,
sympathy for something all trust,
making it all gigantically fussed,
think up something then be it,
even when its totally bullshit,
accuse those who don't believe,
and hate the others who leave,
find a way to blame another,
would sell your soul or mother,
think your talented being a lie,
achievement in making others cry,
their feelings for you were real,
so how does that make you feel,
are we a joke for your game,
is anything real including your name,
your just happy to make another feel dumb,
just spit us out like old tasteless gum,
to stick to a shoe and away we go,
towards a happy place but you'll never know.

Alone in a room when young,
No song was ever sung,
no words to tell of needs,
still like the flower seeds,
sprouting from the dirt,
becoming more alert,
then with a time to bloom,
and get out of that room,
out in the open spaces,
capturing many other faces,
try the things that could kill,
by having all things to thrill,
then to settle those things,
still no song sings,
gathered all wanted before,
now scattered across a floor,
back into a closed spot,
ripples rise from hot,
into darkness fades,
things left after trades,
only time has passed,
get around to living last.

It cannot be seen or heard,
never uttered from a word,
thought by minds the same,
although never given a name,
not a subject people know,
but too easy for all to follow,
played by many very bad,
making others so sad,
teaching the lessons learned,
reaching all those concerned,
depends on how all can survive,
because we never get out alive.

With an exhale of breath he reaches the top of hill,
below down the way is all those he could kill,
blood rivers down and combines like veins,
swirling into the dirt and floating remains,
soaking deep as sunrise peeks over the side,
the morning swallows the night with a slide,
quaking cracks shake the ground below,
opening up the hill and beginning to swallow,
light streams fade as shadows return,
down below the souls reach and burn,
smokes of rotten flesh sting his eyes,
but they remain open as he cries,
the last of the crust falls into the ground,
only a high pitched screaming heard sound,
suddenly it stops as light resumes its hold,
do not murder is why this story was told.

Circles of smoke surround in rings,
as music is played to a voice that sings,
heavy strums of loudness vibrate,
seems their expressions are of hate,
hate for the world which is hurting,
represented by cuts of blood spurting,
expose us to events which are hidden away,
lift us from the depths of depressive grey,
bringing our minds to a greater purpose,
let us float on an open surface,
able to see far in the airs breeze,
slowly our drugged minds unfreeze,
awake into a world which is our own,
traveling this journey is never alone.

It came out of the fogs like swirling hand grips,
sharply piercing teeth through skin of lips,
Creepy claws scale the walls now,
eyes peer from the blackened brow,
Resembled grin in darkened room,
able to devour or consume,
Ears bent back for movement ease,
teeth of venom filled with disease,
The back legs shorter than the front,
calling to others with a grunt,
Eventually they come just as mean,
hiding in the darkness completely unseen,
Tracking back and forth along the walls,
eating a victim before any calls,
Evading eyes of all but pets,
being another meal one soon gets,
Deadly if one is alone and unaware,
as one cannot avoid that evil stare,
Told in stories to make kids sleep,
from the caves that run so deep,
Hated by farmers and travelers alike,
being unprepared is when they strike,
Intelligence of such an unsocial beast,
making people and animals into a feast,
Soon all victims dead and nothing remains,
except their blood going slowly down the drains.