Is my name; a suspect in the land of “…innocent until proven guilty…”  REALLY!?!?

Caught with a smoking gun and a body; although I never pulled the trigger…. 

the intent is prevalent with body and gun present. Nothing else is never considered, because the homicide of emotional trust and generosity is the overrides the fact that…

Sketchy is what they call me….

Here I am plea bargaining, arguing redirected conversations of my admitted guilt, arguments against myself I’ve built through the old adage “…action speaks louder than words…” actions view through binoculars held backwards, squinting trying to see the truth right before them. Circumstantial in nature factual to those that call me Sketchy….

Suspect is the word, given to the convicted; vindication to those who caught the perpetrator.  As they revel in the revelation of their disappointment and confirmation of all affirmations; a banner of their victimization and humiliation endorses is their vindication in all that’s right. While……

Sketchy is what they call me….

Accepting fault, guilt on tilt fearing the worst, because it you that hurt in the mist of the past brought to the present coupled with contempt cursed for past transgressions, insulting intelligence, mocking compassion, understanding, and generosity. All that is given from a heart of solidarity guarded by the light singeing all, “…what’s done in the darkness; comes to light…”

Sketchy is what they call me….

I can’t stand for this so I sit down to be knocked down constantly; reminders of my indiscretions, misdirection and imperfections…. smh….it’s a fucking emotional insurrection.!!! So I plead out, hoping for a lighter sentence, willing to do my penance and restitution for the crucifixion of feelings, trust and security…lmao seriously?

Sketchy is what they call me….

…. speaking of which I’m curious; why deal with, a deceiving, cheating selfish narcissistic? Is it to cure me with a self-righteous moral compass to guide me to the light and singe the fights about how delusional I am in my perspective; my skewed introspective keeping me from already incriminating myself any more than what I have.

Sketchy is what they call me….

In my mind a there’s precipitation caused by dark clouds forming the humidity of the humility suffered and endured. The forecast calls for rain, which I’m not prepared for, but still it rains. So I dance in this rain, through the pain, acid... tears, salty are the tears burning my eyes. Oh how I despise the heavens for opening up, not my tears, God’s tears drowning me in my prayers; while I dance underwater, accumulated rain, through the pain. Inner happiness – what brings a smile when sitting quietly alone in an empty room; this is what I stand to gain in my mind; there’s a perception of precipitation, so I guess I’ll have to be buy an umbrella…..

...To all who have lost a loved one...

Just like time, this too shall pass. Not the beginning nor the end just the passing; of time side by side life in spite of feeble attempts to prolong and put at bay; To remain alive is what we fight for; Related to time from beginning to end, blood relative not by choice, but by circumstances its cousin’s name is demise; this is existence’s plight. Once you accept death, you're free to live. No longer caring about your reputation. You no longer care, except so far as your life, to be used tactically to promote all that, which you believe in. Only then do you attain a fear for less; for death...

Be Fearless…of the dark; storms on the horizon; impending things with no names and no substance just the same. Imagined, created with acceptance. Stop owning the emotional bruises not by your own demise but by those cowards using co_words, with unsheathed tongues flailing about, flinging conjecture, hear-say here and there is what they spout, from that spicket  between their ears;

only because they care_less dispite what they never knowing how to be fearless…

Where they were....

 ...is where I been; revisiting the past now and then

looking back on time; only for it to pass me by

watching, wondering, pondering.....why

I let such beauty; yes you and I; leave me reminiscin’

moments in time echoing in my heart;

 damn I miss them where should I begin

Where they were...

...is where I begin; still wanting them now and then

looking back on time; no longer needed;

because time stands still waiting to be greeted

by love we started but never finished; no more need to be reminiscent

Where they were...

...is where I wanted to be; past mistakes made regrettably

the hands of time which stole from us; now works for us remarkably

Our hand moved by minutes of the second hand; dealt to us

a "Life Transplant" is what we call it...

I'm the donor and you're the recipient.

Where they were

...no longer a concern

where we are...to be; is up to you and me

a passion thought extinguished still burns

hotter than before; our essence; our love, eternally

is where they are…to be!

Drunk Love (A drunken tongue speaking a sober mind)

Falling in love is what I fear as I stare into your face the lust builds as I hesitate thinking “what the hell…” this feeling I can’t expel as it swells for this moment damn the torment as you entice me; words unknown to you my reaction you view and skew to your own interpretation damn the sensation my heart palpitation got me envisioning revelations of temptations that I try to resist; but still you insist, in as much as I struggle I still can’t resist you the tempest my soul doomed eternally the love/lust I’m engulfed! Thought of a person in lust while drunk.

 

E.N.A.M.O.R.

E.N.A.M.O.R.

E ver so gently you touched my heart

N ever ending love you accentuate; my soul you penetrate

A uspiciously you conquered my mind; that was just the beginning

M assaging my ego; enticing me ever so; now I anticipate

O nce only a dream; with hopes of bringing to life it’s meaning

R apport I have unmatched with mi amore; with you I’m so…

Fast Food Love

They thought they knew me; so they drew me on their heart, a canvas I tore apart, ripped to shreds leaving there hearts for dead
On my feet is where I need to be not in a relationship
Oxygen you offer me; life
Carbon dioxide is all I receive; death nothing but strife
Northern star what’s needed; to guide
Support not emotional/sexual consort
Role play is what they insist; displaying “I'm Not like the rest But still selfish needs bare root; while searching for truth
Listening to the love they confess; watching lies
In the process believing what we want and not what’s experienced.
Damaged goods - once optimistic now pessimistic.
You see me for who I was to be-for you, never for who will I be-for me and after you. Through loquacious and invidious words masquerading, entertaining visual acuities; it’s a pity, vision obscured by fog and mist….damn the vision lost. Feeling like the wind in my face as I piss.

I am what you miss in a listless state; of mind crowed
But sublime innuendo of life as it should be and not as it could be.
For this reason only you are lonely in dismay of life; now served your way…fast food style!