The unconditional contains no blessing.
Serving all as equals without a standard return.
Often left with empty pockets holding holes
opposites attraction, giving to the taker with nothing left to console.
Torn and tattered the paper can’t fold
The burden, the ink, layered lines of bold.
From red to blue to black, looking for the gold.
No babe, though the swine of sentiment, leaves a rusted pigment.
Warned that the world is a feeding.
Naive of opportunities fleeting.
Fleet less, following expectations.
Foreign flags raised of red turn ideals to complications.
Campaign for domination, the bait for damnation.
Stranded by temptation, embodied by a frame.
On display, the glass pane cracked,
With pain as plain as the paper before the stain.
Love is living, love is ruthless.
So often we say “I love you”.
From day in to day out as if on repeat
Take it for granted and live life toothless
Love is hard and love can hurt.
Gnaw to a bite, a kiss to a fight.
temptations to altercation
Turmoil soiled by unseen provocation.
Contingent to conquest yet coiled tight.
Love is soft, pouring between fingertips.
Melted like butter and pressed between lips.
Slippery as ice and cold as the winter.
Moldless putty for all but an amateur.
Love is forever changing, a stasis within chains.
This land you roam was never yours to claim.
Constriction from a collection of two.
Sadly mistaken if left with predictions that these problems provided clues.
Love is a moment that beats again and again.
Constantly providing patron to the others within.
The road you rage is best to go both ways.
Settle for less while disaster frames.
Love isn’t lasting, more like a fasting.
One makes the kill as the other makes its fill.
One takes the helm as the other scrubs the boat.
left himself to drown so that she could be afloat.
I’ve always believed the Buddha,
but karma can’t exist.
In this life, when giving more,
the least you seem get.
Unyielding, one tries to stay true,
buried by disappointment,
all outside forces feeding.
The weeping in one’s soul,
as if auctioned, stolen and sold.
Reluctant to be bold with this loss of self control.
Shading cloaks high hopes,
from cotton candy dreams.
So sweet, yet unreal, mistaken by a craven appeal.
chasing an illusion as these aspirations take heels.
To bow the knee, surrendering to the stave.
Crumbled, captured, there had once been a chance,
reliving in the ruin, now taking that second glance.
The light, succumbed to the night, as the day digs a grave…
One more puff to stay positive.
One more pass and it’s negative.
No more false breathe nor failed cognition.
Taking a step back from friction to study fact and fiction.