The core turned darker, crumbling
away, rotten decay, turned bumbling
by delay, started tumbling, started
falling, fallen, stopped
working.

Water reaches places, fire just can't,
to work poorly, to fail, to scant.
Replace the inner parts, at least
try to revive this metal fleshy beast.

If green is gone and brown has come,
you know you've stayed too long.
If your legs are flickering, turning numb,
you know it's time for a different song.

Dear,
You crave telling what you did
because you craved doing one thing
wrong. Keeping it locked and off the grid.
Your voice is silent, your face does sing,
it shows to those who know you
that you know who
is hurt.
I too
expose the meanings of a flirt.

I am surrounded by listeners,
but fearing the response,
surrounded by a massive crowd
minus the ones who are allowed
to hear whatever happened to you,
my dear.

I donated my pride to a greater cause,
I gave away some honour to forget the loss
I won though, but lost integrity, nobility,
Selfish and not, now I crave invisibility.

By the long and well-filled days
by the muddy disconnecting ways
at stars, at waves, at wind, blowing
at children, unaware of growing.

Days go by unnoticed, the distance
is not our enemy, it's fear itself who
grips the lie we call decisions.

Only if you make my insides rot
and I die from therein out, you'll
know for sure to miss me.

I'm not sure whether it will wither
in this weather, or live in our love.

Deeply, to regret or care, or pray
for the mere sight and touch, hers.

I blush, she always does, it seems.
If this is love, if not, I know it means a lot.

Uncertainty in distance, a long way.
Do I even dare to tell or say, it hurts,
to stay away.

I understand it wouldn't work.
And trying would make it bad.
A band can have two guitarists
but only one frontman, it's sad,

really, but I understand why.

Oh, friend of mine, carry me to
acceptance, when my feet hang,
dangle, when my legs lose angle,
push my body overseas, take me
to a place of peace, and island in
between, nothing to be seen, but
waves and clouds, colliding, turning
into one.

I'm not telling stories anymore,
what is wrong or what is different,
what is better, maybe left indifferent.
I told stories to fight the bore.

Unique, feeling, pursue that,
pursue it with passion as your
driver.
Wipe it off, use the doormat.