its not that i don't feel like writing. there's a lot within me that needs to unfold. but i've started getting high a lot more often now that your deviation ain't here to regulate my spiritual beliefs.

maybe i'm taking life too seriously. but isn't the definition of obscenity preserved within the salvages of divinity?

i'm not sure if i should be posting when i'm blazed, but a part of me just keeps believing that your reading every word that builds up inside of me. I've been counting a million stars, yet been staring at just one, its kinda new, it reminds me of you.

don't know if my eyes are even serving their purpose anymore, its not what i see but what i feel that i truly confide within. but liking the mysteries that make this life so unpredictable is a danger that not many are willing to partake in.

i don't need more time to know what it is that i feel from the remotest corner of my heart every time i think of you, but sometimes its better to wait in misery than to hurt in blinded bedazzlement.

i'm just being tragic, you told me your favorite writer was a brown sugar addict. i'm not trying to be like him, just trying to empathize with his astral insinuation.

i need your presence to fill me up with all those positive fibers of this elusive victory over self-proclaimed deceptions.
i need your voice to rescue me from the darkest deepest corners of this benevolent blessing of unfathomable desire.

i just wan't you here right now.
want someone to cuddle.
someone to love.

p.s. i hope i didn't make any spelling errors.