“If only love spilled from lips and truth bled from hearts then hate would drown in a flood of understanding.”

On my knees, lips slightly parted thirsty, ready for a strong stiff one. Make it neat I love the burn.

I’m suffocating on empty promises and twisted truths. I’m drowning in a bottomless pool of illusion.

I’m the fire that dances in the rain, I’m the love that lives in my heart. I’m the broken heart that crashes, I’m the phoenix rising from the ashes. I’m healing and scars, I’m the sun and all the stars.

Your smile keeps me longing for the taste of your lips pressed against my soul.

Insomnia. Restless soul. Long dark nights. Haunted heavy heart feels. Foggy.

Although you stood before me in all your tangible glory, your love evaporated like an illusion melting in my hands.

I’m the queen of broken hearts with a reign that’s sure to last.

She is dandelion wishes and watermelon kisses. He is tumultuous fire and venomous desire.

Love is my religion and let it use me to be the light on the darkest of nights.

Tainted with lies, toxic fire dancing in your eyes. Kisses like poison arrows aiming for the heart killing me softly. Toxic love is an art.

I do not know how to love gently. Devour me completely leaving no insecurities behind. Let me taste every drop of your devotion. Lets run like the wolves and never let go.

You’re the secret whisper of the mountain. The fresh water stream that babbles down the majestic moonlit reverie. You’re the silent hush of screaming stars that ache my heart with the taste of magic.

Your smile is watching a flower bloom in love. Shy at first, then your brightness unfolds and you magically decorate the world with your flashy hues.

This heart of mine wears battle scars, only a beast could understand. A hunter must be patient in this war zone of land.

I walk around like a faded ghost, a shell of a person waiting to be filled with your love which brings me to life like a cup of morning coffee.

Mold me into poetry. Make me flow beautifully and deep. Write me into rhythmic verses with silent words that make me weep. Paint me with emotions like a bleeding sunset on a shore.

The American people ought to know that it is not them, but their government’s policies, that are so hated.

Anyone that hates on you is always below you, because they’re just jealous of what you have.

Unlike the pattern which seems to prevail in the rest of life, in the human species the weak not only survive but often triumph over the strong. The self-hatred inherent in the weak unlocks energies far more formidable then those mobilized by an ordinary struggle for existence.

I am a sore loser. I’ve always been like that ever s’nce I started playin’ sports and just life in general. I hate to lose and I play to win.

These haters can’t hold me back.

Do not hate or fear the artist in yourselves… Honor and love him do not try to possess him. Trust him as nobly as you trust tomorrow. Only the artist in yourself is more truthful than the night.

The problem, of course, was that [he] saw the world in black and white. And he got to decide what was black and what was white. You can’t love a person who lives that way without fearing him too. Maybe even hating him a little.

Fame opportunely despised often comes back redoubled.