I couldn't find who I am
Tell a soul
Why I'm damned
It's lost to me lost to me

Get lost with me lost with me
I've lost my way
Can you tell me please
Who I am today

So call me the doctor
Defrocked saint provocateur
Whirlwind modern mess
All paradoxes in tension
...I digress

So yeah tell me a story baby
And tell it to me true
I'll open up my veins
To all the lies your sweet lies
That make up you

Get lost with me lost with me
I've lost my way
Can you tell me please
Who I am today

Yeah we're all just paper lions
Roarin then cryin
Picture perfect myriad contradictions alignin

So yeah tell me a story baby
And tell it to me true
I'll open up my veins
To all the lies your sweet lies
That make up you

So yeah whisper your secrets baby
I'll make every one come true
Yeah open up your heart baby
You don't know what it might do

Get lost with me are you lost to me?
I've lost my way where are you?
Can you tell me please oh dear please
Who I am today? who are you

One day I heard a song
the best one I've heard,
a most beautiful tale
about a little bird
in love with a whale
(what a cruel world)

The whale could not
fly until sunrise; and
the bird would never
live in the ocean with him;
but the sky was mirrored
in the ocean's waves,
and the clouds were (almost)
shaped like a whale.
So she'd rest on a branch
in the sea, and the whale said
"Just say close to me,

And float along;
do not cry, my dear."
And the bird asked him,
"Will you be waiting?
For if I die first, I'll fall
right by you in the bay.
Until then we must be apart."
And the whale softly told her,
"Okay.
But you already live in my heart."

I’ll not get over George,
Alice said, not manage
to get him out of my skin
or memory. Her psychiatrist

said she might. Twat. Her
word. Heard it someplace.
Not sure where. No, George
she misses. Known him for

years, ever since the work
house closed and they were
dumped in some home for
homeless.  He was partially

blind, saw badly, spoke in
a jumble of words. But she
was drawn to him; first out
of pity, then deeper out of

love. Possible, her psychiatrist
said, love may help whatever
it is. Arse. Her word. Heard
it somewhere, not sure where.

She kissed George first; then
he kissed her. Each carried the
work house haunting with them.
Young staff at the home for the

homeless, smirked, spoke behind
their hands. George seeing her
poorly imagined her better maybe,
she didn’t care, at least he was

kissing her and he was right there.
Once they almost did it, but
George fumbled and they lost
concentration. And they gave

that up as a bad job. Best not to,
her psychiatrist said. Knob. Her word.
Heard it someplace, not sure where.
Then George died; stiff in bed, his not

hers, heart gave out, the doctor said,
poor Alice, loved mostly, cared much,
all gone, not wed, she alone, missing
George, in her single noisy spring bed.

I guess
It's about time,
Time you knew the

Truth.

Maybe you might have known
Long ago,
Maybe you might not have known
At all.
Maybe you knew
But kept it
Hidden in your heart,
Stored away in a
Secret place
At the back of your

Mind.

Oh I don't know what my mind thinks anymore,
It thinks so much,
And this thought,
This particular thought

Burdens me.

I need to release it,
Pass it on.
Someone else

Needs to know.

But knowledge
Brings consequences.
If you know,
You might be mad,
You might be shocked
Or you might just say
"I knew all along".

Nevertheless,
I now need to tell you,
It might bring dire consequences,
But still

I must.

The truth
Hurts.
And that
Sucks.

I'm sorry.

I know I haven't been
Talking.
So concerned
Yet
Not being able
To say
Anything.

I wonder
If you're fine.
I
Do
See
The messages
That pop up
Every day.
At least,
People ask the
Questions
I'm too afraid to
Ask.

You say you're fine,
That you're recovering.
Well
That's good.
I think.
I hope.

I don't even know
What
To think
Anymore.

So I just think of
Everything.
Anything.
But most importantly,
And thankfully,
I still know
I think of

You.

I really pray
You're doing fine, mam.
And I'm sorry
I can't talk,
Even when I do
It never seems
To be
To
You.

And sometimes
It hurts,
When I see your message,
But I have no idea
What
Or
How
To reply
And you just sit there
On the other side of your
Phone,
With two ticks
At the end
Of your message
And the status says
"Online"
But

Still
No
Reply.

I know you try,
Try to cheer me up
With the occassional
Kitty
Or random quote
Something,
Anything
To spur me on.

And I just lay there,
Typing
With one hand on the phone
And the other
Slowly
Grabbing
For the sheets,
Enveloping myself
In the darkness,
Wiping the tears
That

Fall.

The tears,
O they
Fall like
The stars in the sky,
Or
The leaves from the trees,
Falling
From the bottom of my heart,
My heart
Which hurts
For

You.

It snowed into the world
Thick to death
White as the cruel heart of desire.
Your life, yourself
Naked-tongued
And the invisible edges of his blankness.
Never forget that petrified continent.