among any other name...

I sit and ponder lifewise with set beats and instrumentals.
Life is an everlong cycle of fate changing with its mishaps and accidentals.
Even though I don't have all the answers I'm willing to stick around to see the whole way through.
Past tears like visine, life lessons felt and we've seen..is what makes me and you.
Life's a journey with roads that twist, signs we miss, with steps impossible to stand.
Do you think it's past tense when I plan out visions of me and you watching this city burn hand in hand?

Yeah change is constant our willing to adapt is the way to filter out all the things we feel and felt.
Unhealthy habits that turn you off is used in a positive way to bring me health.
But yeah I feel you, I see you, I breath you in, your essence takes a hold of me.
A piece of you used to patch the cracks left behind, a piece of you..the whole of me.

I try to comprehend all the words you say, all the signs put out, all clues in sight.
And I know you can measure what's genuine and true from the words that I write.
This isn't just poetry in action, it's facts being surfaced, in me you should trust.
Even though I reach with open arms, this feeling this rhythm in my soul is for the both of us.

My intentions for this piece was to let you know a side of me maybe I've left behind.
But that smile, that voice, those eyes..can't help..they take over my mind.
So fuck it, let them deal and assume what they need, want, and what's right.
And from these finger tips through plastic keys you feel the words that I write.

Words that I say, words that I mean, words that I take back that I deem obscene.
Words and past fears, past lives and ideas, words lost in translation, words craved like a fiend.

I'm a veteran of life yet prone to suffering I knew it from the start.
If love is a battlefield..where the fuck's my purple heart?
I've got scars healed over...tattooed over time.
The lines blur as life slurs what's ours, what's yours and what's mine.

I'm a glutton for pain you know, through life I flow..since the day I was born.
A rose by any other name, smells just the same..but will still prick you with its thorns.