This black muse becomes me
the dark bitch of my soul
giving voice to what I try to hide
gladly do I hand you control
rip the careful walls apart
flood this mind with spitful pleasure
open up my bleeding heart
to the burns of my memories
forcing words I someday treasure
Extra care , these fragile wings
aloft in thought
downy feathers insight brings
and nested visions I have sought
The wind beneath my body sings
a song in my mind caught
the words a thousand different things
all the demons I have fought
one only hopes its not for Naught
Ice Crystals
thought left by Gods
some say the weepings of such
dropped by deitys unknown
into the needy hands of men
cold hearts warmed by these tears
none alike in form
as with us all, unique
made it seems just to see
powdered love fall from the skies
Blessed be the blade is keen
The hands that hold it true
For in my mind I play the scene
Of what he means to do
A little snip is all it takes
Some thread to make it stick
My little swimmers now have brakes
And still I have my Dick
__________________
Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha
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