I like pie ;) 

You’re my peach á la mode, the perfect mixture of hot and cold. What comes last should’ve always been first. My dessert, I keep room for 2nds and 3rds. 

-Julian ‘Naive’ Bronson

The never ending story

With this heart

He held The Look Of Love,

Turned stone

Lost inside medusa’s eyes,

Mutiple questions in a 

search for the 

Answer why:

This had had to be our last goodbye?

Cried so much they called it Rain,

Heart of stone turned to grain,

Spread across the sands of time

Hopes to find what was Once, again,

Just to tell the tale of a happiness

 without an end.

-Julian ‘Naive’ Bronson

Highly complicated

Just leave me be,

I am a danger to myself that only 

harms those close around me, 

At times I’m split apart,

In my chase for passion misleads me 

to argue with my heart. 

-Julian ‘Naive’ Bronson


Product of imperfection, picture painted as a problem, played into society, poverty placed, pushed out and piled upon the rest. 

U can call.

Caught apon Calming conversations, concentration focused clearly on your character, you erase all the problems and the chaos, you make the whole world cease. Moments I come to cherish dearly. You can call me anytime.

Hope remains

Dear Mr.Bill Collector, 

I know my rents past due, and I, haven’t returned your calls since late last June. Because in all honesty all I have to say is, “real real soon”. So Mr.Bill Collector would you please show me mercy, because I don’t want to leave this place called home. Don’t force in the streets where I’m left to be alone. And I know its no heat by the fire place so we keep a match by the stove, so just because times get cold, shouldn’t be the reason for you to have to freeze your soul. Got a motto inked in my mind that  “There’s no success without struggle” thus causing passion for goals and just so you know the seriousness I’ve typed it in italic and bold. So Mr.Bill Collector, would you please show me mercy, because I don’t want to leave this place called home. Don’t force me into the streets where I’m left to be alone. No need for open wounds I’m out of needle and thread. I just hope you take in consideration all the words that I’ve bled. 

Mr.Bill Collector – God

Home – My life

Word play. 

Your words are Poetry, how you shape them making  them your very own and the way you use them in a poetical form telling us your story in a play on words, the way you paint an image so vivid and clear without the use of a canvas. your more than an artist, your my inspiration. 

Babygirl your Fuckin Awesome! 


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