Of all human experiences sex is both the most important and least important.
Hell isn’t at all what I thought,
There is no fire,
And my bed isn’t a pyre.
Not even the slightest ash.
The air is clean,
skies so blue.
Glitter grows on trees,
Money glimmering in the seas.
A heaven without you.
It is a place where even the idea of you,
Could never be.
A hellish heaven so to say,
But some have gone so far as to stay.
I dare say,
Hell is hell even without the flame,
Heaven sans you is hell,
Hell by another name.
Her heart broke so elegantly,
None of its pieces sliced her as she walked all around it,
She swept it all up,
Tucked it nicely, evenly under the rug.
Then unfolded her polka dot dress, the one with the multi colours.
Climbed up onto the stool and released.
Her bowels didn’t loose though.
Her dress still nice and starchy after a week.
She lived a squeaky clean life,
And her death is just,
Oh so neat!
The problem isn’t that your eyes adjusted to the dark, it is that now they are blinded by the light.
I see fire,
A swollen belly filled with flame,
a burning tree inside,
a volcano lined with red,
it will spew to fill the chasm,
where a chunk of crown awaits it,
the fire comes tonight.
We shall bathe in its light,
our charred hearts shall rejoice,
with the blue kiss.
Quieten your fire now,
Turn it into a spring,
Let it spring forth,
like the sea’s wroth,
Let it leap,
like a man to his death,
fire turned wave,
Incendiary shards of pain,
woven into a delicate mirror,
to cut and slice,
with thine reflection.
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies.