Wash your pants, dry them too.
Silly noise in from the machine?
Only to find it tumbling.
Pluck it and back in your denim pocket.
An infinite abyss of fluctuation.
A cesspool of narcissistic hypocrisy.
You LOVED the way that pair of size 2's used to fit.
I guess happiness is a jeans and T kind of gal...
And so I remain in this suit, uncomfortable.
Don't I look sharp?
The world is full of bears and rabbits.
Migrating in caves and starting bad habbits.
If one should eat the others flesh,
would they take on another distress?
For when you crawl inside a stranger's skin
the world seems more or less in sin.
And though your heart may seem more pure
don't make the assumption,
"I'm here to cure."...
The beastial beings in the shade
can't understand why leaves can fade
and whsipering children in the sun
are puzzled by why shadows run.
Look to the west, look to the east,
there waits a grand and splendid feast.
Gaze to the north,
gaze to the south
and let the silence fill your mouth.
We all are children of the green
whose faces will remain unseen.
So try to see a different view
besides what settles just for you.
Dancing around in the rain,
The kids on the street chasing each other in their trench coats,
Puddle splashed by that bus stop,
Drenched from bottom to top,
I went to that one milkshake place,
To see how my childhood was once like,
So I took my old rusty bike,
Along the shoreline and past that corner shop,
I stood there for a moment and remembered as I said "this is where I once ran away from the cops"
Rubbing the back of my neck as I said "the place where most of my time was spent"
Where me and my buddies once went,
Engraved into the third table from the cash register that read:
but hearts never forget.
Looking at the raindrops on the window as I sit on a white leather seat,
Where my buddy Joey said "Dig in boys! EAT!!"
Chow down those pancakes as fast as a vacuum,
For breakfast, before going to school and into our classroom,
And rush back the days I miss and the childhood years that I now cherish,
Soon enough those days will be remembered when I will perish.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly found significant.
A vast stretch of abandonment and history - long forgotten and left to be consumed by Time himself.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly understood.
Decorated by Mother Nature with an asortment of trees and shrubs and an abundance of flowers it's only scar which betrayed it to the present was a solitary man-made structure, tattoed with the bold letters of "FALCON SECURITY" - surely an untold testimony to this place's past life.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly acknowledged.
Ocassionally it would become the temporary haven of hobbos and hermits alike. Living in mutual homelessness they sort comfort under the trees, in the confines of the hideous building or simply amongst the long, billowing grass of the place. They would build thingie-ma-jigs, what-ja-ma-call-its and thing-a-ma-bobs and sell them to the curt passerbys of their place.
Once I knew a place, a place I never truly appreciated.
Surrounded by infastructure, and industry it stood out like a rose amongst the thorns and brought beauty and clarity back into the otherwise monotonous, morbid environment. It stood defiant and strong against the hungry, salivating greed of humanity - yet someday it was bound to succumb to our over-powering ambition for development.
Once I knew a place, a place that no longer exists.
In the blink of an eye that place was destroyed - uprooted and upheaveled.
Every tree, every shrub, every flower ripped out and now gone. No longer a haven but a grave yard where the dead lay scattered like fallen soldiers across the battlefield. Victims against the War of Industrialisation they fell prey to mans' heinous desires.
"Collateral damage" for a "brighter" future they say.
I say, who needs another vehicle retail outlet.
Once I knew a place, and I will never know that place again.
As I lay here alone and cold darkness is all I see.
I guess in a way this is how life can be.
Some people refer to happiness as sun. Bright and shinning, full of fun.
But this darkness proves them all wrong.
You can pretend to be happy all you want. But just like the sun it fades away, into the darkness,
there goes another day.
Some people cringe at the thought of everlasting life with out the sun.
Some people are so used to it they just go numb.
If you were here rite now with me, maybe you would understand more of the life you can't see.
In the darker side their truly is beauty, once you get past all of the agony.
It's really not as hard as it seems.
People say it may be dark, but just you wait and see.
the sun is closer than you think.
And that's why I'm still here rite now, waiting....
Just waiting to see...
We don't talk,
but I'm quietly watching you,
so when you make eye contact shyly
it's easy to know what we are doing.
You approach me,
sanitizing wipe, Band-Aid, and mic
(complete with wires)
and peel the plastic.
Swab my cheek gently,
and I smell the alcohol
but it's a pleasant
Put the mic over my ear,
position it against the side of my face,
tape the Band-Aid to my cheek,
fingers brushing my skin.
You send the wire down my dress,
pull up my skirt and reach up for the end,
soft fingers lightly skimming over my back.
Adjust the mic in its belt, and lower the fabric.
Tell me in your sweet voice:
I do, "oh, hair", you say, and I pull
my ponytail out of your way,
thinking of your soft short hair.
Then, "Look straight"
and as I do, and you tape the mic tape
against my neck, I'm thinking
Backstage I think to myself
that you haven't done anyone else's mics,
and this makes me feel good.
I know later I'll be watching for you
to be free, so I can feel your hands
near me, watch your eyes rimmed
with liner as they study the mic
hooked to my face.
Crouching slightly as you are up
on tip-toes, and we can communicate
silently once more.
he was made of melted candy and thorns .
his hair , a whirlwind of violence and loneliness , iron black in the darkness , like his obsidian heart . he picked the ones that you couldn’t say no to , because he enjoyed the infinite possibilities . the sun withered when he smiled . a rare occurrence , every half century he’d return and light up the way . he wove dreams into your skin like the blade you cherished in those dead hours , mouth wide open and accepting of the misery he fed you .
his hands were a slow blur of silk and daggers , claws shredding your soul while he whispered his I love yous . you convinced your petty esteem that there was truth in the messages he burned into your screaming flesh , cigarettes wheezing on the floor around you , a plume of smoke in your ruined face as you thanked him for each brand .
he crushes your pathetic wind-pipe because you begged him to , because deep down you know he’d do it regardless . he squashes your every hope because you’ve wasted your life thus far . you moan between his teeth , and he pets you like the broken puppy you are , slowly guiding you to his bounteous well . you sip and choke as he shoves you , takes your breath away , and beats you with a smile .
you relish your marks the next morning with a strangled laugh . there is that tiny speck of emptiness you expect every day , that makes you crawl back to him . he welcomes you with a kick in the ribs and a leather strap around your neck . you explode with joy .
you don’t care . nothing matters , but his adoring hand