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?