Black blood squeezed up from my heart.
Sometimes it’s caught, stuck in my throat,
Letting slivers of art
Elude me, and ink only drizzles off my tongue.

It's caught in my sight
The swirled swish of passions power
Goes long beyond the hour, sneaking past the night

And so it always seems to be
That rancid air will neither come nor leave my lung,
Because I am drowning –smiling, in the pages of an open sea.

You've thrown the petals in the breeze
Now watch them flutter
And float on the seas

Here them crying
As they drown,
As they're dying

And know -always know-
You were not alone,
We all have let them go

Is running in circles worse
Than running in a square?
Is letting chaos disperse
Worse than carefully setting up a snare?

Am I speaking in tongues
Riddled with sores?
Am I to young
To say much more?

Is grasping at straws
Better than taking with bad cause?
Is rambling about life
Better than handing out my strife?

Pitterpat
Feet on the floor
Lost prints circle the dust
Of yesterday
Rich thoughts go sour. What poor
Words to say.

Pitterpat
Such a small sound
Way up here
And way down there
But stones pile on stones
To build a case around my heart

Pitterpat
I've waited years and
Didn't even know.
Waited to sneak out the attic door,
And out the only window,
To escape my little
Prison.

We are flying
Or
We are dying

We are bursting with joy
Or
We are subjected to an evil ploy

There's either something more
Or
There's a war

What time do we leave for taking a breath
Or
Mourning a death

If love is like the wind,
Does it whip my hair
In front of my eyes,
Blinding me?
Or does it knock me
Down?

If love is like being drunk
Will it leave me
Searching for a foggy memory,
A distant mystery
That haunts me with a headache?

I want to say it all
I want to free the birds
Trapped in the tower's hall

But I can't open
The windows anymore
I can't free
Them to fly
And no one can release me

But I'll smile
For now, because prisons aren't forever
And it's already been a while