Forget this feeling I have for you. You’re my angel. My angel of death. My soul. My hurting insides of deathly and unhealthy devotion for you.
Can you understand why I exist? I only live, for the glorification of you.
Singe my hair with the embers of time and pressures of the Universal gathering in bodily suppositions. Why can’t you understand this ‘fact’.
Because I can. I understand myself. It’s the way things are.
Collapse the wicked blue clouds up above, pressing them to the Earthly mingling in slithering caresses.
I am yours. Again, understand that.
Why do you dissolve your notice of my being? I don’t deserve this. Just look at me.
My devotion is complete. Only for you. But not reciprocated.
SECOND HAND POET is the ‘devotion’ of what we do as human beings within environments of emotions. And he does this very well, transforming the simple acts into the fogginess of the real world and its offsprings of thoughts and moments.
‘Loving You’ is a beckoning. And that beckoning from deep within, is good enough, by itself. Results of that howling, might have been dismissed, but the art of the journey, can be imprinted with conviction and length.
And we dig that, a lot.