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...

...leave me here.

I 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 

Here. 

WE HURT

Words are words

Love is not love

But words

Because otherwise the word would

Not be

And I want to always be

better

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

Isn’t

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

Anger

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

Break

We should have a place within ourselves 

To protect our cries

But instead we make others cry for us

We hurt.

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.

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
disintegrates
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.

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.

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
anything

You are like the end of me.