The ideal woman

Who is she?
The girl with the full lips
Daunting hips,
With whom takes your imagination on an endless lusty journey.
She taunts me, licks her lips in
satisfaction at her great prowess,
laughing at my futile attempts to
procure your affections.
Oh she angers me.
For your choice is least resistent to the soft gloves she uses to
manipulate your wanton will.
She's a bitch you know?
Do you care? No.
When you see me
you watch the fly on the wall,
a disgusting atrocity!
Even though you know
Deep down, inside,
I'm all you'll ever need.
It's a fear you'll never hide.
She's a figment of an ideal you will tire of.
She is not blood, she is not bone,
she will not care if you don't come home.
But if one day you choose to love only me,
In my heart you'll find her, where she really wants to be.

Disintended Solution pt. I

I will wait
until the sun comes out
and burns the darkness of fate.
In this my dreams will become one
and I will see the flashing lights
of the heads who know who I am.
They know me, or so I percieve.
my long, drawn out, lonley, tireless road,
has now dissipated
and eyes can believe in me.
They hunt down my ambition
criticize my intention,
and leave no room for illusion of what I am to need.
And the home where I spent so many years being alone
has now become the home I am no longer to know.
Loneliness has its flaws
but togetherness has a whole new world of disillusionment.
Which is to become better than the other?
So we have yet to see...