flourish

I am learning as the lion is dying.
His paws are twitching as I grow to be strong without a surfaced weakness.
I am powerful now.
He is dead, deceased, and rotting.
I never think of him, until now.
I am an elder to the people.
I am an old newspaper saved for kindle for when the world ends.
When darkness comes I will be there,
but NO I am powerful, I am ruling over these fuck-ups.
Look at me with admiration.
but who am I to speak?

kook

Even though I am smiling...
Even though I have lived an alright life up until now...
Even though I have had those exciting, fucked up, worthwhile moments in my life...
Even though you once told me that you loved me...
Even though you FUCKING told me that you loved me...
I cry.
I cry the tears of the happy as well as the lost.
I drank these tears until I became drunk.
I raked these tears up into a line and snorted the shit out of them.
I rolled each tear up into a piece of paper and smoked until I could no longer speak.
Please judge me for that.
Walk up to me and say," You are a genuine fuck up."
I swear on my last breath I take on this wonderful, graceful, peace of shit place we call land of the free, that I will say, " Why, thank you darling."
but who am I to speak?

Ms.

I want you to kill me.
Not today, not tomorrow.
The day I turn 100 years young.
I want you to kill me.
Spit out everything you loved about me and hated about me.
Tell me the things you didn't like and the things you wish you could have experienced.
Tell me how much you loved me.
Tell me how much I meant to you.
Not today though, nor tomorrow.
Wait until I turn 100, Please.
Then kiss me one last time,
maybe I will live another hundred.
There is a reason for this death.
There is a reason that I love you, yet I will never know the reason.
I'm ok with that.
but who am I to speak?

Rookie of

I am being taken over by the flood.
Flood me with memories.
Kiss me in the stairwell.
Uniforms will not keep me sane.
Even though its blurry.
I feel you,
and your silk bed spread.
Like it was yesterday.
Fuck, I wish it was yesterday.
but who am I to speak?

Mona

The jazz band plays as I search the room.
She should appear soon.
What am I saying , of course she will.
She will.

She finally shows.
Her body walks with the music.
I cannot help but to stare.
She will be mine.
I will explore the her thoughts.
I will explore each individual part of her body.
She will smile at me, only me.
My heart will race beyond normal measures.
I will be hers and she will be mine.
Like I just told you it would, It just happened.
I am satisfied.
but who am I to speak?

Lady Luck

She walks in.
She is lovely, but I can see her motive in her eyes.
She will kill tonight.
For some odd reason I am moved.
I am ready to see the outcome.
Someone is going to be killed.
Killed.
Life no more.
I would kill for her to pick me.
but who am I to speak?

I am greece.

Salt flows downward in the most simple motion I have ever witnessed.
This woman asks me what I have witnessed.

This woman is beautiful.
She appears only in my dreams.

I say,"I have witnessed only the most corrupt events of this century."
"I am unknown.", I add.
For a moment, I am a god.

I speak to my high power mindset.
god, this woman is beautiful.
god, this woman is a god.
but who am I to speak?

Last.

The raw grain.
underlying passages flow throughout.
When will I see the change of society
When will I ride the wing of this woman's right arm
I have come up with a work of art,
in the sense of a thought.
A thought that will surpass anything and anyone.
I am invincible until the day I ride that wing.
That wing of pestilence.
This day, is the day I become afraid
Afraid of the raw grain that I kneel on.
The raw grain that is shoved down our throats.
The fucking RAW GRAIN that we are killed with.
Killed in a sense of self-thought.
but who am I to speak?

One More.

City Scenes
City Sense
I belong here.
I have forgotten home, I have forgotten safety.
Safety net.
Safety net.
Catch me in my dream. Catch me senseless.
Catch this city.
Save this city.
I am this city.
What city?
but who am I to speak?

Survive me.

Conclusion.
What is this ending an intro to?
Conclusion.
I have the answer.
Here it is:
I will NEVER have the answer.
I have my hopes, my dreams.
Yet reality holds down my hot hot..hot air balloon.
but who am I to speak?

Carpets

Whisper.
I am afraid.
I am afraid of the outcome of these thoughts, these images.
Come back to me.
Come to me.
Come.
Although the trust is gone, I am wanted,
and I still want.
Paint me a picture.
Write me a book.
Slowly I will fall in love.
Again.
but who am I to speak?

Waste.

I am calm.
I know not what to think or to say.
Trust has failed me.
Trust in it's self has proven ever theory I have created.
Now I can finally have comfort in destroying them.
Them all.
Them all.
You can have that comfort.
I don't want it.
Trust can fuck you over too.
Just wait.
Wait for justice.
Although calm, I still answer to the call.
The call of jealousy, hate, anger.
Call me close.
I will follow.
This is finished.
Finished.
but who am I to speak?