Love Is Blowing Up In Smoke

find deliberation in my hands, for the sake of liberation is at stake. find contemporary kindness in the sky for the sea saw battle of your mistakes is weighing down the world. find remorse, under rocks and sympathy in gift wrapped boxes. allow wishes to come true. allow beauty to surround you. eyes see the world and hands molding it to it's desires, free will and ability, stand tall to the fire. casting forward into the unknown, unsteady heels wobbling into a new direction, new light embraces your mind. time after time there is love blowing up in smoke. body lotion silk making dreams harder to grasps, extravagant ice cubes cooling down the situation, you stop to drop and now your on a roll, don't turn back - get in the zone.

Literary Dodge Ball

words stumbling out of your lips and rest right on my shoulders. the pressure is weighing me down. a new game of literary dodge ball, i avoid your speech like the plague. twisted embellishments, racing towards my lung, to capture my breath, and stow it away in a place i'll search for but forget. little weapons you keep in your brain, and ever so often they become tangible and you throw them out into the air with the intentions of staining pupils and allowing a new soul to realize it's been captured in the clutches of your voice. as if dropping bombs into the water and watching the ripple take affect, words casting the very same ripple throughout my body and sending new vocabulary into the pit of my stomach, which is effecting my speech. i cannot form the words properly, i can no longer delivery them in a manner that could rattle your soul because you have no soul, it's been replaced with a pile of words, doused in flames and waiting for a target.

Coma of Truth

truth is never really comforting. you want it, don't you? don't be silly everybody does. you crave it, right.. you think your strong enough to take it, handle it even.. but it's not fragile nor sharp. the truth, it doesn't care as much as you care about it. it's this love hate relationship waiting, just waiting ever so slightly like a glass of wine cheering you on to sip your way into intoxication, a coma of truth. truth can easily bring a smile to your lips and a tear to your eyes, it can punch you just has lightly as it can caress you. truth can't take care of you, it can wreck you up. like an alley fight it's waiting for you under the street light, truth.. well it begs you to believe it so it can laugh in your face just how pathetic you look for dropping to your knees, to cradle truth in your eyes, a constant tug-a-war with yourself and the fluff, that is truth. truth, it loves to hate you. and you hate to love it because you know it probably won't do you any good, but hey.. that's truth for you right. the dealer doesn't deal you a hand and then hope for you to get the truth, he's going to win just has you might get lucky. strike out the truth and open your eyes, unfold your belongings and hope that truth doesn't catch you waiting for it.. it knows you better than you know yourself. truth is, is there such a thing, or is truth just this made up fantasy that this delicate flower that grows from all the lies and sprouts a fabulous flower of truth, i doubt it. i mean truth is like a balloon, a balloon filled with paint just waiting to burst along your horizon.

Warm Guns And Red Lips

Beautiful people with glasses filled right to the brim with poisonous happiness. Warm guns and red lips, urging kisses to happen, to rise and fall. Hearts flickering on and off and dazed and confused, we'll drink to that. Rose coloured pupils because glasses didn't go with the outfit, switching lanes that you've out fitted. After life is nothing but a promise and in the scene the warm feeling of sugared cups now rests in a place just above your mind, digging its way into beautiful things, scared for your life but too high to run. Salted ambitions and feverish times. Sleeping beauty's dead and the prince is no where to be found. Awake in the morning to the mess you've caused, in all your scandalous apparel. Affairs with the devil, rising like a body count and you're snatching souls like its going out of fashion, style crashing down on all your senses, comb your horrific hair, a disaster that surely deserves another glass..

Mix With Choreography

attempts at indecent exposure, not sure what your getting at.. wanting everything you've had and everything you loss. guzzling liquid temptation down your throat and mixed with any choreography could cause slippery lips and thunderous words and try after try after try. stumbling for the moment, regain yourself over time, quick fix hypocrisy this will never be what it use to be. idolizing fascinations with mornings that have come and gone, missing something entirely pleasing and rushing for the instant pleasure it once delivered. Embarrassed and undesirable, put on the shelf to rest, no longer performing any sort of acts. no kindness, all greed. a greedy excuse to sit next too me, but this spot is reserved, please go away and feel nothing more. memories slicing your mind open wide at night, twisting and turning at the vivid images you can streams over and over again, but how far can your senses take you off the ever fading reel that you have rewinding and rewinding on your brain. unsatisfied and gushes of realization now, after time, punch you in the gut and there is nothing you can do too save yourself. redeem not, talk less, come to turns. reaching for a grip on this crumbling effort, forget what it has become for it will never be different. salty substance caress your eyes and this won't be your last disguise, contemplating ridiculous outfits just too see, can robin hood once again steel from the rich and keep it for thee?

Cupcake, You're in Bondage

symbolic favours all leading to the big bang theory. permission after permission, denied. satisfying the unsatisfiable with unsatisfactory pleasures. skydiving on subtle skies and hoping the sun won't bitch slap you back into reality. the earth sucking you in just to spit you out and do it all over again.. beautiful nothings catching your attention and holding it there amongst the clouds. capturing smiles that where lifted for a moment and then gone in an instant, wonderful slurs of drunken love and shot gun weddings, bring in the snipers for the brides maids are here. capsules full of sweet little desires, lusting over pupils stained with imaginative sentiments. kissing eyelashes with words full of hope and throwing them out with the trash tomorrow. one man's trash is another's treasure and we will continue to discard one another until everybody is in their rightful places.. pour me a glass pixie and let's get shitfaced. you look so pretty when you're a mess, dancing on table tops like your on your way to heaven, starstruck. you don't own the place but you sure look like you do. cupcake in bondage, you turn off the lights and ignite fires in the souls of even the most pimped hos.

Play in Traffic

Making wishes on light bulbs in the sky, updating social networks to ensure they won't burn out. mechanical clouds wheeling over your eyes. how much money are you will to pay for sunlight? Out with the organic, In with the paycheque. unfasten your seat belts. play in traffic. firework fashions and sultry smiles with the intentions of precisely how they look. face value honesty and sugar coated lips, taste just like donuts. beautiful boys with Marlboro smoke on their lapels, silhouettes inching closer, fever growing, conversation hushed and the remarks we make with anticipating irises will fill our night with such delicious colours. the candy store is closed but we can taste the rainbow. sparklers in the house and who needs electricity when we're feeing each other's sparks. cotton candy tongues and candy apple blushes. cosmic minds lapsing into an ever so enchanting affair.

Pour Us a Glass of Optimism

pour me a glass of optimism and paint the world with peace. fetching moment of candle light weapons but that is only the beginning of struggling faith. tightly knit hatred caressed in the most elegant of ways. tied together beauty, cutting the circulation off at the knees. drowning capability, but we turn eyes and advert attentions away from democracy. filing away evidence, right into thee fire. casting black balls for white options and everything pure, not tainted with droplets of revolution. blowing apart minds and taking the pieces to build our defenses. defending the dishonest in the greatest of tenses. dancing to poverty and toasting too pain, black tie occasion and lethal gas in exchange. bombs blowing up and hearts torn to shreds. buttons being pressed and questions going unread.. pour us a tall glass of optimism please, for moments of chaos deserve much more than frailty.

Problematic Adaptations

Over. be rid of you. Take your dirty laundry and hang it on somebody else's line to sizzle and fry. Time after time and you still feel obligated to air your mess, the influential crap that's attached to my name, keep it out of your mouth. Out of sight, out of mind.. But your mind is disconnected and you're very blind by the fact that we may have had something so your words are slipping out or are you pushing with such force ..trying to cause an eruption, as if ill trip and bounce back, forget that. not everyone can pull off that subtle red lip and your lips are worth nothing, no attention or tending because the words they harbour are like wicked storms crashing on the most beautiful of beaches, causing them to be torn apart, blown wide open.. left to two photographs, before and after.. and while the before may be bubbly with perfection the after shot is the one that homes such truth that it makes you want to not remember the wicked times and only the good times, but the wicked is what stands out, steals your breathe but not your words when all the gorgeous has run out. pitying perfection, when idealism wasn't at bay. contemplating the pros and the cons but the cons are much heavier and the pros have their possibilities while the cons.. we'll if it gets worse your already prepared. dancing on shards of glass, your feet are sliced and bloody so don't be fooled by the way the light reflects off of the mess and makes it appear dazzling. problematic adaptations usually are just as close as they appear.

Decent Indecency

blowing up the idea of peace. placing it way under the covers. lip stick on the rims of glasses with an elegant charm - memories are now hiding in everlasting capsules, casting shadows with support of beautiful wishes. throwing away catastrophe, with a firework conclusion. honey dripping smarts with chaotic masterpieces unfolding one after another. tough lace masking business folk as if identity is no equipped with razor blades and corruption is just a ploy to get your mind compromised into something less persistent. ink smudging against fingertips and marking up anything worthwhile. sandcastles suddenly mucked up with thoughts of wishy-washy love now tumbling into heroism. fabulous flight with ginger sense all crinkling a sense of indecency in the most decent of ways.

Trail and Error

trail and error. dancing around starlight and spiralling downward towards the core of something dynamic. crumpling up turbulence. thinking thoughts of fabulous things, derailing problems and slamming the doors behind you. cashing and burning with a severe case of karma. pour me a glass of revenge and we'll serve it up with a perfect tower of chopped sympathy. doodles of hate wrapped around the idea of sprinkled chaos. glitter of flamingo tolerated lights all strung together and hung high into sky, eyes electrified with the passion of loathing and realizing that your suddenly late for your own funeral. damaging such damage and piecing it back together with cherished pity.

Confessions of a Bad Girl

write me a picture laced with irony and regret,let me see you sweat baby sweat. heart beating faster than an iron fist, twisting in the darkness, making this scene itch. jumping through the fire insisting that your mine, handfuls of glitter aimed right for your eyes, nothing can change your rose coloured glasses unless we smash you in the fast as hope for different flowers. countless harmonies all ending in a slap. knick knacks full of stories that are sure to make you react. winding up the water guns aiming for your soul, quickly baby, hurry the rush is falling through the holes, that once hid all our passion and now drains like grains of sand, wondering if you wondering just what kind of cards i'm holding within my hands.

Advocate

broken bones mend imperfections into a harmony almost worth singing too. beauty in the eyes of the beholder, yet blinded by the light and your bound to think even the most grotesque things suddenly stunning. dancing off rooftops into puddles deep enough to swallow your mind. all your hopes and ambitions castes aside. swimming through clouds you've laid out in your mind and just when you thought things would reveal, they retract and close any connection to what you thought could or couldn't be warmed. teeth nibbling on your soul and relocation after relocation takes a toll. advocate for the peace that washed away with the sun, waiting for magic when you don't believe.. you'll never find it.

Sultry Summers

glossed lips waiting for a happily ever after. million dollar purses filled to the lacy brim with ammunition too wipe out any affair. polished nails and polished weapons. jagged heels clicking across the floor, like a sniper in a elegant ballgown, careful what you wish for fellas. batting eye lashes, dodging bullets. lavish cocktails sprinkled with enchanting serums to keep you on your toes. starstruck by impeccable fashions, fit for a murder. nylon twisted dreams and enchanting glasses clinking together with a plan behind the disguise. memorable tributes and stainless beliefs. tattooed affection and your going down in history with a quick fix of delectable toasts too madness, sexiness, affection, and appeal. negativity stowed away in the over head compartment waiting for summery days to dip yours into sultry vendettas. catapulting ambitions into the darkest time of the night, dawn breaks and so does hearts all around the world.

Spoon Fed Charisma

bow ties and back alley music, cohesive body movements, flickering teeth.. these people are bad. bad, baby straight to the bone, no safe crowd, teasing little lips full of venomous fun. melancholy pride, and we're just getting started. educated glitter, soft spoken and quivering at the pit of passion that now bubbles from magnetic pulls of elegant swing. slurping on your choice of poison, this party isn't over. sunrise, sunset. placing bets on sex. leap frogging from one operation to another. it's the game of life and you better get a helmet, because this road is tough and there will be no warning, spoon fed charisma, get to the end of the line. hyped on emotions and memories from the past, laughs from jokes that weren't that funny cutting glass. thicker than thieves, our swift realization, confusing the nation with hopes of inflation. life support without hope and the cause for our frowns are merely a disguise to get you on your way. tying the knot, real close to your jugular, questioning your confessions in the time of procession.

Love Actually

advising love up off the edge. encouraging love another glass of wine, and with ill temper, love responds to the wayside of hope on the borderline of peace. domesticating love and locking it up. love with it's wild eyes will beat you up and throw you away, so be cautious of how the envelope slides under love's door presenting it with a fireball of emotions that will surely burn you to a crisp. lusting hearts and a pint of coffee, love is in the air, in the streets, in your eyes and in mine. lovely ideas harsh with the certainty of love, and they say it is better to have loved and loss then to have never of loved at all.. but love, i'd prefer to have never met your serpents tongue and eager hands, i would have liked to have never of heard love's laugh because now it is a secret soundtrack i long to hear again. uplifting as it pulling you down to the roots, swaying your mind in an odd fashion as if to conduct a flow of actuality, but love.. can it be measured, can it be defined.. is love actually?

Lusting Sanity

Lovers are lunatics with lusting sanity and wild eyes. Clouds rolling in and nothing dislocates, an already boggled mind. Ghosts line the doorways matching bad timing with bad timing. Footsteps of good things leading off into horizons. Questions left unanswered. Wonders now wandering to find contentment within the sound of settling. Deathly hollows and beauty is caving inward causing spectacular sadness. Fussing intent with action, contradicting eyes pleading for opposing grief. Sweet madness developing and creating stacks of impressionable weight on the shoulders of fragile topics.

Televised Hate

slipping like dominos. flickering light bulbs, that still need fixing. heavy air. buckets of marbles. handfuls of precious cargo. coffee, black. slumber that cannot be matched. empty pools and we're diving in. beaches without sand, flips without the flops. biting nails and sitting on the edge of the world. food colouring dropped into the creases of time and spread over an eternity. biting lips. arcade games. letters wrote but never sent. letters sent and never opened. lighter fluid and gut punching action. mascara dabbled over editing mouths. scratched. bruised. healed. sparkly. hung on the wall, put on the shelf. locked. secured. blown wide open. salted laughter. candles burned all the way through. jewellery never been worn. items with the tags still on. dull knives, scary times. televised hate. roller skates. child's play in an adult world. truth about the truth is you probably don't want to hear it. classical embellishments. connections no longer connecting. simple now complicated. sheets of paper. bed sheets. uncharted territory. peeking through the view master yet still can't see through the thought. shoe laces keeping doodles together. doodles running off with cheesies and this could get messy. fake flowers, fake voices. real flowers, real loses. southern comfort, bejewelled massacres. televised hate and there is no escaping this..

Christmas Lights for Valentines

systematically designed roads that lead right to neon highlighted dead ends. christmas lights for valentines and we're breaking hearts with these songs. honking horns and dynamite, setting storm to open minds. fragile rocks and advertisements corrupting pupils, spilling over into irises and everything once lilac now lavender. crumbling toward the sky, sky scraping kisses corroding civilization. chocolate covered issues and liquified solutions, bottoms up beautiful. leather jacket warmth, reflecting on a rainy day, infiltrating dreams and a grand jester of spicy determination shaping flaws into flaws into flaws into flaws. chipped teeth and smoothie souls playing a severe game of racket ball with undeceive places that cannot be located.

Hopscotch Point of View

dancing monologue and how are we going to survive such decibels of enchanting murders. proclaiming victories at the top of our lungs and squeezing our mines through key holes. falling down and never getting up, a demographic we don't know much about.. but now emotions are begging to obey. hopscotch point of view and they're jumping from me to you. twisting wishes and there is a spoon in the road, which way to go, no where from here but up. however, which way is up if were already pointing down and when we feel like everything is bundled to the side, where do we turn, how can we strive. an enormous amount of passion rises with each breathe that falls and throw pixie dust in the air and watch it dissolve, like candy on a child's tongue this is momentary happiness, we aren't the sky.. we aren't meant to last forever. these moments however short, will keep us warm in the light of darkness and when your preparing yourself to give up please don't stray from your heavy heart. kissing hiccups because we just can't get enough and there is a case of mysterious laughter erupting in our guts. the day is bright but the secrets are hot and everything is burning like the top of a pot. fingers now scratched with the memories of you, low under the radar until something resurfaces and the song you use to hum is now ultimately the worst thing i've ever heard and the scribbles you left, we'll they are long gone, frozen like your face in the pictures during those times, when i begged the clock to stop ticking and for you to stay mine, but the clock was against me, and your mind is my worst enemy, going into battle with the invisible monsters that are punching your membrane and calling you away. armed to the teeth and i cannot fight you on this ground.