Hey can you help me?

Because I don't know where to go after here.

This place is my prison and nah it isn't a state of mind or is it,

an entrapment of spark flares of inspired soul.

So I gave up in the world and under going another construction in the glamoured repair at this stop.

Problem is,

My objective has gotten so far,

that I got lost,

the words come out better when my brain waves slow down.

Usually when everyone else is asleep.

It's like being able to find your stuff after a party or stampede.

I've been told that you can't sleep when you're getting close to figuring out your dreams.

So my mind is free cage,

unlock no writers block,

my fingers bleed black words flowing to a once blank canvas that was myself,

so had to accept it.

Iʼm the rose to your thorns

Your the beast to my horns

Let me put my warmth

On you like the sun above

Cover my brightness with

Your intense dark love

Mesh with me my beast

Let your musings come undone

I lay my lace on your leather

Until we become

One....

I lay here and wonder if I should share these thoughts as I never get to. Or should I just let my notes take all the silence away, even though the only words I hear are my own echoes. Maybe if I said it once then I would have the confidence to always give myself the chance. To never be silent and let my words match the air pressed against my lungs. The dragon's breath waits in the castle called my chest. It all just needs a little spark. Then I won't need my silent notes because they would all have burned away.

It feels good, an empty mind. Then again you kind of miss those flowing words that rock you in it's gentle arms.

I think it's starting again. Those mental taunts. Another note has opened up Then again, it may have stopped. I hope it's not just taking a big pause. Yet, it would be worse if the thought was left unfinished The torture would be too great to look back on as it could've been great piece to ponder upon I hear the letters loudly but the words are still a mystery I dusted canvases to see the beauty hidden beneath them. I can stare for hours as I admire every piece of it

But that night changed everything 

Because I fell in love with death once, I stared it right in it's face &

Yes she was graceful Covered in her black, eerie thread- I knew she wanted my soul, She so adore!" Passed from skeletal design,

A midnight robe ablaze.

It was the hag,the one I dread

She feed off the unthinkable things going on in my head, cause I was obsessed with this drug call death, trying to get a handle of what's left because she banned me from her self The immortal death.

Small mentions along ear lobes without sound, nor breath signals a slumber awake rollover wonder.... Last night I sent you a message drunk when I sent It

, a piece of a fragment of a sentence, it stated... hey it's me again I'm trying to find out if you're in town let's hang out, I waited but no reply!

The wind howled as my stomach growled, and i clutched it

Thoughts of us rumbling in my mind

Peeking at the sky through my blinds

As the images of us mingled with the signals in my brain

There u were right in front of me different and the same

Cause you were as i remebered you, and how i hoped you'd changed

For the better, or whatever... doesn't matter to me 

I've always lost my agenda whenever I was near ya

I'm not trying to scare ya, just thinking of letting ya

Know how I'm affected in your presence

Don't misinterpret the mumbled message

Cause you tend to boggle me, make swallowing...

Difficult, make me nearly choke on words filled with regret as they're spoke

Eyes closed, time froze, I'm gone when i hear the song

My phone is giving me an alarm

"One new message"

Hesitant, i check it ...

Sometimes things can change for the better or get worse, this little thing we call life is one hell of a toll just like the Internet is right now it can't be Control, Trying to push back these corrupt souls, Ain't life funny it pours like fine wine swift like sand running through  & hour glass, glides through like a kite on a breezy day, some sips of life are a bit bitter even brutal, but lesson that need to be learned, none the less the hands of time never stop, about like the hands on a grandfather's clock, that just need a good whining from time to time, just as long as my blood keeps pumping & this heart keeps beating