This syrupy word has left a bland taste,

every writer keeps the same seasoning.

Coated words put paper and brains to waste.

They say honey messes with reasoning;

always balanced with worn out  jawbreakers.

Never reaches the kosher point of things.

Without raw feelings there are no takers!

No more flavor in the glucose they bring.

Love has so much spice, it burns like a star!

What if it, love, was a raw example?

So noticeable it leaves a deep scar.

Life, a sample of something so ample.

     Doting equals vocation, it's just mad!

     Cupid's arrow has never been so sad.

Eight names love goes by without being shy:

Agape, Eros, Storge, Philautia...  

Doesn't leave you even if you're cold, away:

Philia, Pragma, Ludus, Mania...

Agape, a type of spiritual love;

hands hold the cross of a holy father,

free the spirit in the form of a dove.

Not all keep their good hands from pure daughters.

Put on a label that destroys them all,

it's sad to see them being hell sinners!

God, how body and blood giving men fall? 

Their knees are rusted by hate, poor beggars...

     Old pages of the book seem angelic;

     but, the hidden bell sounds are barbaric.

This one craves romance, passion, love, and sex... 

She wants to feel this as smoke leaves her lungs.

See a dime and get ready for the next;

so young, yet poison leaves her many tongues.

Walking like ripe jewels in the dark streets!

Eyes so intense, they make the mighty weak.

It makes a work of art with spilled blood sheets:

cold money has never made a heart reek.

It's used and gets broken beyond repair;

under all that madness, it still burns hot!

Jabs the skin and pulls it off with a tear;

leaves your gentle throat in a breathless knot...

     Dear Eros, pleasure is born in my soul!

     With one taste, it's easy to lose control.

Storge, a nice god, love your little ones!

Teach the forgotten into future folks.

Parent-child love, they say, power it takes;

with knowledge, guide them like water through kolks.

Open your spent eyes to the morning rays:

drain your pure brain with each written, said word.

Every kind sentence is the one that stays,

buy them all the crayons you can't afford.

In the lesson present pour your heart out!

Analyze the ones in front of your gaze;

don't weep if salt covers your paper cut,

look for anything to make you ablaze.

     Put kinship and bonds in each golden star!

     Handouts have made so many go so far.

Put your starvation in tall heels, my dear!

Pose like a creature that's about to die.

Love yourself, take months off the calendar;

we all know that those photos are a lie.

Breathe air like it's your last meal of the week,

torture your young body like it's nothing.

Measure your bosom to check if it's sleek;

there's no pleasure, just runways and clothing.

Nurture yourself with pills and cups of wine!

Philautia, worn bones can be replaced.

Yet, there's no such thing as crossing the line!

Waist thin; you can't risk being lost, erased.

     Cry, walk on lights like the angel you are;

     break into shards and bleed, no one will care.

Friendly love with a hunger for power!

A man with a red tie that suffocates.

Waits for his prey by the long passing hour;

bonuses have never made better bait,

like a pastor leading his lambs to hell.

An arm on their soft backs keeps them captured;

choose the brightest color, wait for the bill.

In the end, this fake friend leaves them injured.

Lick your thumb, Philia, and count the green!

Don't say the toxic favor is obscure,

it's more bitter than that store bought caffeine.

Cry for your lost lamb, you can still endure...

     Affectionate love with a rich, cool gain.

     Pick it all up, every single dry grain!

The sharp steam is an archived memory...

Cold streams decorate your calm face with salt;

honeyed, pure, rich scents filled with energy.

Matured, developed taste is the result:

listen to the symphony of metals.

With each hard cut feel the satisfaction!

Ingredients are fellow, peer to skulls;

decorate a white plate worth attraction.

Cumin, cayenne, paprika, cinnamon...

Feel that powder between your worked fingers!

Blow, make it a crown for the uncommon;

the tang sinks in, the heart knows it lingers.

     Down the throat, a pleasant burn like magma!

     Few scrap the pot for gold like you, Pragma.

Your brain is scrambled with all the passion;

Ludus, make all that pain into a pill.

Vivid veins hurt when kissed with aggression,

make your body out of relish and fill.

Lick your lips when hunger kicks your dead heart.

Disaster enters your once pure bosom;

others taste and live what pulled you apart.

Cry, scream when your sick cuts yell where they're from.

The tears you shed are just crystals of life:

touch the skin of suffered human psyches.

The mosaic is not clear to non-life...

Insert broken delights just like Nike's!

     Put your head back when your blood weeps for more.

     A cycle that leaves yearning on the shore.

Obsession and hunger, no other way.

Hands so cold that no one can touch with trust!

Soul that once lived is equal to hair, gray.

The gold has turned your kinship into dust.

White coat that makes you look like an angel;

but, you'll only save the ones who give crowns.

Use that power to get an archangel;

Show your bona fide intentions with frowns.

Breathe in and out, the human you treat fowl.

Numbers on a screen make a poor devil...

Mania, brain crazy to give a growl!

Cruel, the word describes you, bedevil.

     All of them bleed from the same wound of time;

     Cupid sings medicine with every rhyme...