Beautiful love is in my eyes but poisonous to my soul. Love creates every other emotion that that can sustain a human host. Love is the devils advocate. Shy and submissive some become, generating excitement in one partner while killing dignity and respect in the mind a body of the other. Love is a potent passionate poison. It can take a single person interweaves them with another to procreate and disillusion loneliness. Enchanting love is Sub-contracted to build a relationship sometimes costing more then expected making you feel like your at a loss. Leaving your moral foundation leaning toward the wrong investments in ones self-belief that your self-worth has been drained setting you up for failure in your future endeavors.

I have a reputation established long ago, that lingers in the pupils of my peers, that I am in love with love. I have been told i carry an emotional hammer that is used to forcibly shatter and drive nails into the hearts of women. I do not discriminate against anyone-heart either. They have been like doorways.. Like a vampire I was invited in and trusted with every bone in their bodies.

This very thought is layered with confusing ambiguity. It really is quite the opposite within my own mind that I was not sent to take the life-force from these individuals but to take the broken and mend them and yet with my absence I have put them in a hateful purgatory.

I have my own drain that I have found unbelievably beautiful a wonderful social butterfly that like Midas has made me believe I have the golden touch. She weaves my dreams and is the root of my ambition. I do feel i can truly say that I would take this world head-on for this angel.

Women have always been a cataclysmic device in my life. I am like an old abandoned building at a test site, when trying to accomplish and conquer my reality. I have found that I am still a juvenile in this life when it comes to figuring out what I want from love.

I have seen tears shed for me that could fill jug after jug. I have swallowed gallons of pride and denial to chase what I know makes me happy while having no remorse for the pain I have caused certain innocent bystanders. A mental time-bomb and a disgrace to some who I was like a false-prophet. I still try to walk this world without fear of hurt. Self-destruction is eminent. But with out love, having hope would be pointless.

This denial is what makes the graveyard only a stepping stone. I do not know if I could go on with life without this denial. I would except the horrible without out question and come under more friendly fire.

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