My heart always goes in your direction every time it runs off; my heart races, rests only on your heart

I come out at night after it when my day's dark side is light,

recoursing vanity's disbelief by leaving veiled endearments of "Always needing you." strewn about: map to city blocks, map to years worth; hopeful map to your heart

Leaving letter's sparks in blue and pink, desiring to ignite with my sidewalk poetry, for your embers that'll splinter and flame a path when your eyes are weighed down by the reality of the cold, hard concrete

The brunt of responsibility among the writing genres falls mostly upon two of them. That would be that of children's literature, and that of writing history. One is for the beginning of our lives, and the other is for keeping an eye on the pulse rate of our humanity during them. -Yuv Pierian

When the world meant something,

a mirror mirrored a mirror:

She found the sun hiding out in the recesses of his eyes

Especially, after he'd cry over spilling devil tears

She was the moon that spoke of sharing the dawn despite her trouble from the light;

On the horizon, two hearts were thawing quickly and rising

Releasing their fears and gods,

found living within every mortal thing,

they bonded together,

and in their first kiss came the sounds of breaking chains

(laughing aloud from relieved resentment)

Their Neverland in the distance,

for a different universe,

coming closer,

where the sun smiled for the moon,

and not just for when it was approaching

But in a matter of time,

force came quickly crashing between them

(as force often does)

So instead,

a total eclipse of the heart;

the deep-end debuted,

trying to redefine what they really meant to one another when it'd ask,

"What about the planets and stars?"

When I'm schizophrenic I get depressed which bears manic habits; anxiety attack watch me jump right off this bridge

*** should I switch 'manic habits' for 'anxiety attacks' and then after the ; switch 'anxiety attack' for 'mania'? And yes I meant to leave the comma out after mania

Mother God's ability to make a structure without any walls, ceiling, and floor that's stronger and more supportive than any metal or material known is a trick I'm hoping to learn. It's one of the reasons I love words so much. They're immortal and defy a reality that we know. -Yuv Pierian

You, my lovely Little Atomic Bomb if an old bird never learned to fly would you be the one pushing it out of the nest to either soar or die? One thing to say.....

20 clocks set differently, 19 in my head, controlling the axis that's led me near where you've been and will keep me myself when I catch up to what you said

(2 scores backward to get to now doesn't seem so bad when you think about all the time intended for what we have?)

Tallying changes using the 3 arms on my goblin's pocket watch in my hand, the empty picture locket part keeps me steady as you go

Light brings dreams from the shadows lurking in my sleep, planning on creating us awake, you turn me on to dreaming happy endings instead

(I know better than to plant perennials in mayhem yet I'm sentimental to eternity with you)

When I spin out of control why am I after your what(s), and whereabouts, I end up face down on the concrete, the answer staring at me in the face

-

You, my Little Atomic Bomb living you haven't killed me yet so maybe, after all, you're actually helping me learn how to fly instead?

***Wanted a happy ending for a change so changed it up. Are poems ever really complete or always works in progress??***

You, my lovely Little Atomic Bomb if an old bird never learned to fly would you be the one pushing it out of the nest to either soar or die? I have one thing to say before we conclude on that.....

20 clocks set differently, 19 in my head, controlling the axis that's led me near where you've been and will keep me myself when I catch up to what you said

(2 scores backward to get to now doesn't seem so bad when you think about all the time intended for what we have?)

Tallying changes using the 3 arms on my goblin's pocket watch in my hand, the empty picture locket part keeps me steady as you go

Light brings dreams from the shadows lurking in my sleep, planning on creating us awake, I turn around and start trading it back in for happy endings instead

(I should know better than to plant perennials in mayhem but I'm sentimental to eternity with you)

When I spin out of control why am I after your what(s), and whereabouts, I end up face down on the concrete, the answer staring at me in the face

You, my lovely Little Atomic Bomb haven't killed me yet but you being helpful will leave me for dead

**On a side note, I went into this poem wanting to have to use the words 'goblin', 'pocket watch', and 'arduous'. This poem isn't finished yet but I figure some feedback might help***

Left over lies used to strike down our love roam vagrant in hordes, riding our mutations; unabated bruised egos

(kickers and runners in a constant defensive position)

7,000 and some you and me(s) lost from being saved; springing from a trap you never really set in walls you never really built

(How a coward can be when everything's not perfect: over act bravery into a hysteria)

When sought, unwilling enemies become victims so I'm substituting things away from you as a den of thieves for safety's sake

(Wanna be hero's wild call to arms against hallucination after hallucination)

Pain's more precious than pleasure when protecting your and there I am seeing monsters of me in you again so it's time to ride out.....it's fine as long as I'm not battling you heart to heart

Of what's become of the lies I used to burn gone the signs our love, now they vagrantly roam in hordes on the back of Mustangs, unsaddled (both kickers and runners when told or even asked to stay) A million you and me(s) lost their days to the voice within telling me to spring from a trap you never set

I should have given you more of a break but you know how a cowards heart can be when everything's not perfect: we over act bravery (I could make you happy but for safety's sake I hope you are already) unwilling enemies are found when sought so I'm substituting 'musts' with 'alternatives', a call to arms against something not even there

Pain's more precious than pleasure when it's for the sacrifice of protecting, for keeping your 'pure heart' safe (there I go again seeing different monstrous forms of me in you) a man making a damned hero of himself til the end so begins my bruised ego, self-mutilation, vandals and sin......its fine as long as I'm not fighting you instead