Saturday, April 2, 2016

These are just words...

When your finger tires from turning the pages of your life
And your head is made out papermiche 
so many things are written 
And so many things need ridden
I remember when I had the urge to fly
Across a dirty pond it was
I played a song with my  - 
That that that thing but
That thing that lives inside when 
You think that life is so perfect 
Full of brightness And lightness
 - that that that thing is so ... 
So what if it covers all the writing on the wall!?
A hanging wire from a lighting post...
It faces me, the light the head and heavy heart
It burns me - that that that thing
That made my other thing explode 
And took my own 
My child my own creation - 
And now it turns the pages - a tired finger and nothing lingers 
These are just words...

Monday, August 10, 2015

...leave me here.

think I'm just going to let you go. I did already but either you or something of you is holding me. Fucking magnet. You penetrate me only so that I sacrifice a pint of blood for you
And it's sad like truly heart-breaking 
Can you really put a piece of shattered glass together? Possibly in an illusion of some kind of story line and 
It's because walls appear to disappear. I waste my imagination on you
I waste the very excitement of a rainbow on you. 
I waste my tears and I tear sure 
Don't cry to waste water like in a desert I feel 
the dryness 
And it's ok. 
I am strong. I walk it quite a lot 
A Thin line on a half moon
Thin biscuit on a circuit
I cut myself from static noise and I run into it
I cut my self and walk right into it 
And then i wonder what hit me 
What can I be drinking 
If illusion were some type of drink I would not pay for it
I would sacrifice the very thing I would 
And like a child of nature I would return 
Like a child of naked Angels I would embrace it.
Because nothing matters 
At least not enough to lose this sleep on. 
And so I let you go like a wilted flower
Amidst a sunless earth I will embrace 
The very leaves that leave me 

Wednesday, September 17, 2014


Words are words
Love is not love
But words
Because otherwise the word would
Not be
And I want to always be
Not bitter, and how close two words
Can be
And it’s a testament that with our actions
We hurt
We beat the life of life
And we are left with words
Enemies of our future
Friends of our foes
We hurt
We smile at good but too much
Too much is just anger without words
Words with anger we can’t forget
But Love is not love
We so quickly forget
Only to remember the bruises
Our hearts have endured
So easyly we speak
So easy we ignore the pleading
We just want to be good
We hurt
But what comes out?
Actions without words
When it takes over you
You forget that we are human
And that’s no excuse and we should
Be inspired by a helping hand but it
Comes only every so often
We are in crime rather than in love
We are hurting rather than loving
And so that is why Love is just another
Erect word
One that has to be spoken plenty to be remembered
Hate, Anger, and Crimes are not forgotten so easily
You see, we don’t need to be reminded that
Cruelty exist
We have been steeped in other peoples
Anger, that we can’t forget
We have been prosecuted
For doing, sometimes nothing
We hurt 
We no longer do things out of kindness
We are too afraid, scared children
To want to make a change
“Being human” shouldn’t be an excuse to bruise
But a reason to see humanity and
As fragile as we are, we forget
And so we sing our pains
We write them
And we paint them
We hide them too
Too hard to bear
We hurt
And sure there is beauty, even in pain
There is beauty in the darkness
But pain
We still die in the end sure
We end
But paths marked with blood are lying there
In the walks of all humanity
And we shed them still through remembrance and
Through our actions
And Anger
A character in humanity
And there is no wrong in anger
But the actions, caused by fear right?
And why can’t we just breath instead we
We should have a place within ourselves 
To protect our cries
But instead we make others cry for us
We hurt.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Playground In Her Head

It is a ticket, one way
To some one I used to know and
It is where the sun and the moon meet
And hold hands and laugh
And sometimes cry
Oh why? Did I see what's here come near
Or am I some kind of yoyo
Blue, or grey discolored sunrise
And old boxes of sand castles in a sand- less beach and an empty goal
With nothing more to say, it's the wind I reach for
It's the wind I dreamt of many years ago and the wind I get and maybe it is my way of living, lined up with a dread of
Am I gone? Or are you here and I am somewhere else? Or are you just, you
Sketched out in some else's canvas
Where the colors once again, meet
Like two children holding hands and how he forgets that playground in her head and it's burn, burning like fire
This story is to be told
When is no longer there. Oh.
Because the wind can't be seen unless
You really start live
Can you feel? The wind that is.
Among the trees
Someone I know is waiting under its leaves
And it's patient eyes can only make you feel
Like it's okay to walk by
And live.

Friday, May 24, 2013

Nothing Gives

When you realize the danger 
of being in love with a ghost
A white smoky being
You fall through the black cracks
and you tumble till you can't stand anymore
And those damned crutches can't even hold me up
I wish I had even the slightest strength
to hold on, but nothing
nothing gives

I want to be able to rise or become
a glass statue possibly inside you
so that even if my body is moved
I wouldn't shatter because your organs would
protect me... and I will become a spy one day
with one eye on you and one eye on me
and I hope one day I get the courage to
leave you, and nothing
nothing gives

And so I live with shadow puppets
screaming in my head
And so I live with strings
Coming from my head
When I look up
I see you holding me up, I have become
a marionette, and made out of paper
A dangling decor that with the rain disappears
I see my time with you, a memory
so distant
because I can't lie
I can't be there, I'm made of nothing

I turn to so many things to have you love me
and I am writing about you, and nothing
nothing gives.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Purple Rain

I purpled myself in your eyes
and you used to save me
you made sure
My eyes
had clarity
and now they lie
lie to you like they lie to me
like purple rain

I am like you
we play with each other's strings
like an old shoe hanging from a post
I hang
Hinged by some mystery promise
a phantom has me down on my knees
and sometimes I feel the tip of your heel
on my cheeks
my face painted to the ground
like purple rain I lie

And I let you hold me
I let you hold me just enough
for me to believe
that I am sure I know what I want
and I know what you want
a bell to ring
that's it, like a porter or a host
to carry your deceits
to carry your unborn children
into a desolate place and then
I get bored with you and
I don't care but when I see you
I am blinded once more
And I refuse to leave
and like a spoiled child
I scream, and I tear up
Oh purple rain

Your colors give me hope
but what need I hope for?
I see you. Lying to me, you
lie to your mother
I see you take my papers and burning them
You think I don't see you, I see
you... with scissors too and that brush
I keep wetting to paint my face
has to dry one day
How can I cry old tears
and be bare to some ghost?
Be that cup amidst the dessert
hoping for rain
and now I look up and I see
you falling into my eyes
becoming purple to me
my eyes have turned into cups
and oh! I purpled myself
...your eyes are not here.
Oh purple rain I lie.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

You Are Like The End Of Me.

We don't occupy the same space
and so you are here and I am there
it must be
Because I sometimes find myself
swirling through the shadows of your mind
I see that you think of me
I know that you feel for me
what I feel for you, for you I feel

And since I don't occupy the same space
as you
I so want to be with you
I want to want you
to climb inside me
and surely then I'd occupy some part of you
like you now occupy some part of me

And since you don't occupy
the same space as me
I want you to know me
like a stranger
you live in a cold place
while I live in hell (which is sometimes hot)
and sometimes I'm in the clouds about you
only to find that you don't exist
you're like a ghost in the night
you come and take my soul and play tricks
with me, with your twirly finger
you intoxicate me with your love
as they say, you exist only in the desert
oh how love is thirsty
like a virgin
like an untouched thing, touched
and we don't occupy the same

You are like the end of me.