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Film
gives
imagination

Poetry
creates
imagination.

I almost asked for help.
I almost said,
"Stay"
But almost
Is just another word for
Too late...

The bus
was late
This morning
I miss you

I scratched my chin on accident
it hurt so bad

This lovely machination
The devil had a hand in its creation
My righteousness
It's desecration
Filth,it's desperation
Could you ever find a grip.
Snap out of it
Its a synthetic trip
Could you ever change like a switch flip?
Snap out of it
It's nothing but a blip.
A blip in time
Against my soul a crime
Stolen from me my prime
Compensation?
Won't ever be worth more than a dime
Oh do you see my name?
What did I ever want?
Oh do you think I am to blame?
Could tell me to atone but I really cant
Come see me
Look what I've made
Come be me
Live under my woeful shade
Your life for mine?
Wouldn't even be a fair trade
But I'll take it
The deal has been made

A story unfolds in her eyes,
the little runaway recites,
depth in an iris of secrets,
halcyon days and sapphire nights.

Release the words dearest youngling,
bleed the emotions you regale,
let the narrative entice time,
weep the history of your tale.

She blinks and the page slowly turns,
another chapter taking shape.
The story unfolds in her eyes
and lids close as she seeks escape.

Ik struikelde, viel over moed.
Ik wolkenkrabde wondes open,
blies van de toren met een 'moet'
en mag dat nu met spijt bekopen