The Conversation By Aaron Ace Cook

I use to glorfi my ego, now I know to let go, Psychological battles with people is getting old, I'm starting to think my adversarys are aware of my paranoid personality or is just paranoia. Look I have a question for ya. If your soul felt cold owould you sell it? or is it already sold? Was I really that much of a problem to solve? Or did have to many doors that revolved. All I ever wanted was to be free of conflict and have a good conscience, I know the shit I did was confusing and filled with nonsense, maybe I lacked the ability of progress. Poetry is my weekly readers digest. Open the door to escape, your head is spinning don't know witch where the outside gate, some doors are wooden and some plastic, most of them are fake. Only the real survive and have the heart to escape. I wanna synchronize and analyze your mind one time. It's been a while since I wrote a rhyme, let's keep this conversation only between us, ok. What is love. Is it the sister of lust. Nobody seems to hold love together, so it the opposite definition of bust? Do they truly mean it emotionally when they say they had enough? Sometimes we forget love is incarcerated at times so visits are limited. Lust is a need to be with, love is a feeling. then again lust is on the same floor in the same corrupted building. Its not about being real or fake. It's about how much you love them and how much you can take, how much you can relate, debate, I wanted love like constructive arguments like we see on ESPN's 1st take. Freedom is a light paper waight but you can't tell that to a fresh inmate. We pull each other to ether safer or dangerous and temptaional weather. It's a psychological dogg fight for that fresh doggy bowl or treat. Lust can play it's own music. Love is blind but can listen, who would make it home 1st if they both took beat street. a couple only sees what they feel but they neglect the real. Theirs a hidden lession in every relationship, accept the reality and learn from it. Love is evil, then again a snake can't invision what a eagles invisions so were all still stuck looking for the true definition. If Ignorance is bliss then by default love dosnt really exists. Its just a word we all learn to live with. I never really found the key of success, somewhere in my life I lost it. Yea I went through different fazez and stages, faces and places, rearrangements and constraints, different characters and changes, from Bobby James to Alex rose, to Ace and the white Sammy Davis, just to find Aaron, the poet driven, egotistical, bi polor, very careful and always spirit wonderful, mentally magical, self lothing, bashful asshole. I found him, it's a underground musical mirical, feeling happy like a over tipped stripper centerfold, feeling so bless then a nun standing next to the pope getting undressed, the proof is in the conversation of people, standing on the shoulders of giants trying to start a conflict can be lethal. Rabbit holes are ment for the shape minded. Wait were getting off track, my real name is Aaron Cook, I'm a ex drug addict, child support paying father who favors the drink coke and Jack. They through me in hell about 7 times, but I always find a way back. I was never good at complaining. Put them pills down Aaron. Starts some restraining. Locked in my own puzzle. Just trying to find a way out of this struggle. If disappointment was a crime, I'll be in trouble. That was weak but hey right now I feel comfortable in my bubble. Arguments are now doubled. Looking back at it now, my life was a garden, but it seemed someone kept on stealing my shovel. I hope God gives me a parden for all fires I started. When I was alive I felt like the departed. Memorys are sparked from old pictures, I was always photogenic, it just seemed I never could get the right light fitcure, maybe after I'm gone they will realize that I was a psychological dabocal and a poet genius. I was a good person who was worth it, I just started the wrong way and came off awful. Redemption is the key to my resurrection. I dream of a good life. I know its there. I seen it. Conversation still rules our thoughts and this nation, fighting for my own peace of mind and salvation, letting go of my delusions of ruins, sobriety and stabilty is what I'm presueing. Probably and perhaps if I peace together my past I'll shovel the reason why I write every night without even noticing 3 hours went by, this shit is to addicting, I've been writing since I was 17. I have anthology of poetry and I'm far from over, If I half to I'll fucking carry poetry on my shoulders Then fuck it I'll make it work some how, The words “should have” carry weight of opportunities missed and mistakes made. Things I might have done instead, to prevent the dark events. The misconception that I need to make sure these words will always Be relevant and relate. End of the Conversation.