In this rule book I carry till the day I die,
first lesson is; you have to learn to lie,
and cover those wounds with a wistful sigh,
'cause penguins wouldn't be loved the same if they could fly.

I was trying to show that I'm not like rest,
but I think I only succeeded in boring you to death,
As I can see the lint from you picking at your pockets,
And the burn marks on the same fingertips from sticking them in sockets.

We really didn't need
another study
into the Placebo Effect,
but it
made the researchers
feel better.

npmmicro

If music is the food of love
Is it fattening?

On distant mountain
Cold alone  but not lonely
Howling with the moon

The house stands open
to the weather.
Walls cracked;
roof collapsing
A mildewed teddy bear moulders
in the crumbling fireplace.
Woodwormed floorboards;
rotting stairs.
Glass in the windows shattered
like broken dreams
And everywhere the sour smell
of decay and lost ambition.

-
with dark brown eyes,
you searched,
for someone,
for god,
for light.
with deep brown eyes,
you saw me.
in me you found,
cold hallways,
broken tiles,
but never light.

with tired green eyes,
i searched,
for someone,
for warmth,
for you.
with vacant green eyes,
i found nothing.
all i ever wanted,
was nothing.
in you i found,
something.

with boring, sad eyes,
we pondered.
on death,
on love,
on us.

with wide, bright eyes-

we awoke from our own dreams,
in messy sheets far from heaven.
we wept, sea between beds,
feeling dead and forever unpleasant,
from too many words and antidepressants.