Let me show you my style

It’s arm over arm, bent in towards chest, paddle thick through the waters depth, and then all oxygen is spent.
Methodical life seems so; learn hurdles, part with the set unused, poem verse: you want chorus but how can words form from hurt, I’m on the side of those who know not of what you do, till you do so plain view, fair to argue the point of angelic or mere spiteful soul. Not hiding but not for this persons feelings. To do so abruptly. Pass the turning point and we argue. If this man can do, and withstand another indiscretion, fight the fluid now hold on, pain ends.

Wrote choreograph words for passion because I so feel swirly on a travel all I know is how so I hold you. Other then this contemplative statement, it shows the direction of life is forbearing,


Here’s to

Those midnight dances the lost fly away in,
The three am picnics for flirty teens,
The cigarette butts homeless share at four,
The Casper’s of everyday, the ones we’re never sure of to see again.
Here’s to the lost, and hopeless


o n a n
l     i   d
d.   n s
Here’s to music that’s saved me more times then I realized, here’s to finding words for pages, here’s to you for carrying on your back all that you have to.