You said my name today
And it brought me back to life.
It snapped me out of panic,
A state of complete and utter disorientation.
Your voice among a sea of screams
Scattered all my insecurities among the shadows.
I never realized how six simple letters
Could sound so much like a symphony,
With the beautiful hum of the bass
And the quaint flutter of the winds.
You woke me from my thoughts of sleep,
Though I can’t tell if they’re dreams or nightmares
When you’re in them.
"We're still doing this right? This whole band fiasco...we're still a band right?"
"I can't say things and mean them any longer, nothing's really clear. I can't trust myself enough to tell you the answer. These monsters, like night tremors, holding me up from my bed. Between my sheets and the cold, metal springs of the mattress. It's terrifying.
Every time you create something, it brings you closer to the end.
Now there's ringing in my ears, but the pain's so far away. And from sulking all these years, the head ache's like second nature. We're not living any longer, just the shadow of ourselves. When your consumed by a monster, you're the one who goes to hell.
And climbing from the ditches clutching blood-soaked dirt in your hands. You can't help but fall back down, sinking slowly to the bottom and you hear-you hear screams of agony from the whole right next to yours. But you still think there's a way out and you start climbing up again.
They're still holding me up as if I'm in the palm of a God. He's speaking directly into my conscious, telling me all of my worst thoughts. He knows the language of my imagination and the bonds that hold it together. He starts unlacing the stress knots and they collapse like little tumors.
And I can't sleep right here any longer, we're no longer doing this for each other. I'm a mad man created from the left over pieces of a half-finished puzzled. This is the end. Yes I can feel it. This is the end, and if it is not, then now it will be, because I believe it."
I felt cold air biting at my ankles
while I caught a glimpse of you across the street
I don't know if I was prepared
to see you holding her hand.
I wanted to count the seconds
to see if you dropped hers as fast as you did
why do you have to be
so goddamn beautiful.
I can't help thinking
that you keep her so you can have someone to own.
The opportunity to sculpt her mind
with a new language
to carve out new shapes for her eyes with your tongue
in more ways than one.
It's selfish of me.
I just long for you still
when I remember
in some bittersweet way
the nights where you looked at me
like I was delicate.
Now our eyes repel one another.
just once more
look at me with your lips
and kiss me with your eyes.
I want to feel something again.
she exiled herself from the
atmosphere that ended her in tears
and she lay flat on the ground,
didn't care, didn't fear.
she made an angel by herself
she wished was here
to banish her griefs
and as a snowflake landed
on her bare, exposed neck,
she fumbled over the word
love just as the snowflake
melted, her blood cells jumped
as the sheer cold drip of water
licks the lovebite solemnly.
two delinquent angles neared her
reeking of alcohol and fresh sins
salvaging her with broken thoughts
and beer bottles;
and another snowflake landed
on her bare, exposed neck,
but this time, it didn't melt.
well not really… though I told
every grinning green Catholic soul
at my school I did that and more
I did smell the wine on her breath
and watch her trip into the trailer
her gown hitting the floor
before she closed the door
her body as white as the fake snow
spitting onto the set, and
as cold perhaps
I was sixteen and she was fifty one
this was my one and only, her last,
flick, not fling, though I would have
cut off an arm for it to have been so
not the arm she touched
in our one immortal scene together…
her electric hand,
all the blond hairs on my forearm standing at attention
me wondering if the camera caught
their helpless vertical veer
it mattered not, most of the scene
landed not on the screen, but
the cutting room floor, my two lines slashed to one
my 48 seconds with her shaved to 22
I did not cry when I heard she died,
twenty months later, but my lie seem soiled
once she was in the ground
I confessed to Father Ryan
he was silent when
I asked what to tell
the fools who believed
the dying star lay with me
simply because she said,
“Call me Vivien, not Ms Leigh”
I curse the night I meet you.
I curse the night my eyes locked deep into your golden/brown skin & crimson red lips.
I curse the drug that draped my mind in lust, in confidence, to merely utter
I curse that sentmental longing of the sound of your voice again.
And the subtle approach towards my deviant nature.
Accept this call...
In need of repair
String the pieces
He sits on the edge
Of a well worn seat
Concerns on the ledge
Extend your pen,
We devour his table
Lick clean our plates
Guilty are we
Who are WE!
That we Expect!!
THAT…… we….. Expect!
Turn the page...
With words direct.
With outstretched arms
Convey with words
WE have been THERE
We ARE HERE!
So lend of yourself