It changed, I was afraid of it.

I saw it coming, but you wouldn’t stop it.

I laid down all the things I needed.

The hammer, the nails, the wood.

There was no use.

The storm that came was violent and lonely.

It laid many to sleep.

I️ see the way you move, it’s a flame.

And I️ fear, I️ don’t understand, the way you dance inside my head.

So pull me, into the deep.

And I’ll hold my breath until you breathe again.

To truly forgive, I️ must be made anew.

I️ traded my water for salt.

I️ died of thirst, amidst an oasis.

I️ needed it, so I️ could rise up to show what you’ve awaken.

I wish I could tell you how I needed the same things. How it sucks that you did what you did, and even said what you said. I wish I could tell you how shitty it is that you get to say you still want this, but need space, while I’m possibly the most hurt I’ve ever been. I wish I could tell you how many times I could’ve done that to you, but couldn’t. Still can’t even in hindsight. I wish I could tell you even though I’m a man and I am somewhat stoic and passive, that I wish you would fight for me, instead of acting like it never happened. I wish I could tell you that your need for things, and acceptance, and fleeting momentary pleasures will be your greatest source of unhappiness. There a lot of things I wish I could do or say right now and before. But I am this person, I am who I am in this, not just for me, but mostly for you. Because you need me to be. I wish you could see that.

It’s not that I don’t want to.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to.

There is this certain palpable radiance when it happens.

It’s unexplainable, really.

Like a spiritual and sexual experience in a confluence....like converging chaotic rivers.

I wish it were easy to dissect.

It’s not.

You see, I understand this for what it is.

I see the moral tangibility to it all.

I see the aura in its hues of light to dark, yellow to red.

It’s not that I don’t know what i’m doing is wrong.

I know it is, I need it to be.

There is a symbiotic relationship between it being so wrong, but feeling so right.

It’s God-like, you know?

Life becomes contingent on my decision.

What I understand most is the human condition.

And how some people don’t deserve theirs.

Which is another pillar to my reasoning.

I don’t need any motivation, it’s my euphoria, my dopamine......my pleasure.

There is no anger associated to them.

I am methodical, and precise.

I leave nothing.

I don’t hide them because I don’t need to.

My profession allows me discretion, and the ability to quantify a carbon based life.

Quite lovely understanding chemicals and the bag of chemicals that is our bodies.

I am nothing glamorous.

I am quiet and unseen.

Extroverted enough to be loved.

Introverted enough to considered a madman.

I will say this, as I only have 13 minutes before I meet my next....victim if you want to call them that.

I have only one haunting aspect to all of this.

Their eyes.

I still see everyone of them.

I still see the shock and fear.

All 46 pairs, as clear as sunlight.

Every color, every shape.

In my dreams, in people I see on the street, when I close my own eyes.

I see them, incessantly, shaking sometimes in violent vibrations.

Truthfully, it may be my death one day.

And rightfully so.

They will come for me, they always do.

I will greet them as old friends coming to welcome me to my hell.

Uh oh, 13 minutes is up, I am meeting her at the corner coffee shop.

I am always early.

Number 47.

The truth will set you free.

But freedom won't come without a price.

It will come effortlessly, and will sink you into its deep.

The truth will set you free.

But not until its done with you first.

The truth will revel in your reticence.

It will attach itself to your thoughts.

It will test your confidence in yourself and people.

The truth will set you free.

Free to the malicious or benevolent side of yourself.

The truth is neither freind nor foe.

It will come to drown you or bring you air.

It hasn't the slightest persuasive intent or investment in your heart.

The truth will set you free.

Free to dance with your skeletons or with your dreams.

The truth will come in many forms.

It will come in shapes, shades, faces, and sounds.

It will come with with beauty of pain and with delight.

The truth will set you free.

With that rustic key, to free you from yourself, to be with you until the end.

Whatever your truth is, it will devour you, it will be perpetually devine.

It will be true, it cannot lie.

"Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth" -Henry David Thoreau

No invention in my head, will ever construct peace out of casualty.

We are no longer quite ourselves, we've embraced the propensity in blasphemy.

Taken upon ourselves to stand for another mans society. I stood atop the mountain as they chanted the worlds eulogy.

The love of ideals is thriving, while the heart of man is dying.

Let it scatter in the wind,

the seeds I've sown.

Lest I be eaten alive by the world.

I should be devoured in love,

I should be intoxicated by it.

But freedom of the heart doesn't allow such silly things.

Dissecting the nature of identity,

molding our reflections to conform.

The questions still remain, they never change. Why are you who you are?

The rippling effect of choices.

We are the architects of destiny, after all. Setting in motion an unstoppable chain of events.

Attempting affirmation of the senses, by using our limited senses. We will inevitably fall short in understanding the depths and heights, the logics and reasons.

Life as we know it doesn't change.

Hate doesn't change.

Love doesn't change.

We change, but should never stop choosing love.

My loves,

It is from love I've given you freedom.

The autonomous nature, you will abuse and misuse it. But I will still love you.

It is from love you have your image. The world will sell you flaws of it and ways to fix it. You will forget me in pursuit of your vanities. But I will still love you.

It is from love you will revel in the vastness of your stars and planets. An intricate host of fires and particles that are woven into a fabric of improbable hospitality. Many will attribute its glory to that which rocks dream of. But I will still love you.

It is from love you will desire relation or wither away without it. It is the nature of your existence to love or be loved. You will manipulate and exploit, you will hoard it away, buying divisions and names. But I will still love you.

It is from love I will give you a key, to unlock the prison doors of your decisions and become pardoned from the gallows. You will drift between relapse and pharisaical human nature. But I will still love you.

It is from love that I give you love. It is from love I give you life. It is from love I give you forgiveness. I will always love you. Love is eternal. I am love.

The color of snow

Has to it a creative disposition

Perhaps it could have been green

Would it be as majestic?

Would we revel in it as it topped mountains?

Even down to the quantum of a snow flake

Holds treasures of design

The way it moves incessantly

If only we had eyes to see it shake

Brothers and sisters, we've been captivated by vainglorious leaders. Men in shadows, stringed puppets and bottom feeders.

Circling the tragedy like vultures to the casualties of the war that we believe is real. Not meant be united, torn and scattered like ashes, we trade our water for salt, prisoners in a human metaxis.

Our city streets lined with blood on the hands of masquerading priests, on the hands of those awake but still asleep, on the hands of those who only drink from their lusts and greeds.

Torches of culture will fill the night, the paradigms of generations of pigmentations, ideals and conflagration.

We'll watch the world dance through our TV screens, readying our nooses and fire for the stakes. After the fire we'll leave the comfort of our mortal fears, and silently realize where our bodies lie in the wake.

But in our fleeting moments of existence, we won't hast back to our decisions, we won't ponder the causes of our racial inquisitions; we'll think of true love that kept us safe from your convictions.

We'll cry from all the hoarded passion we never gave away, and scour the filthy slate of the things we never thought of. We'll cry in memory of our childhoods and illuminate our ease, and realize we've grown old and forgotten how to love.

Because we were told who were.