Once we mature we forget about tricycles
Leave it to the less mature mind
A plaything for children
Maybe I should forget about tricycles
A remnant of the past I can’t forget
Holding to childlike fantasy
I don’t really think anyone likes tricycles
Cumbersome and slower than a bike
Not practical by any sense
When would we even use tricycles
Maybe a clown at a circus
A child down a hill before scraping its knee
Perhaps one day I’ll let go of tricycles
Hands off the handlebars arms held out
Riding a bicycle into oblivion

I’ll continue to tell you I’m busy
As it releases me from confrontation
If I never must explain myself
I’ll stay in content sedation
Maybe if I push you away
I’ll get some sense of salvation
Simply need to escape this
Leave it to a simple serration

I want the moon that captures your gaze and leaves you breathless
I want the stars that fall from the skies to your tongue
I want to swirl around the galaxies within your eyes and fly through the voids of your drifting to sleep
I want the suns of your afternoons that bring your smile
I want the orbits of our memories to complete fast revolutions
I want the comets that soar to face us in the same direction
I want the planets to align for you
I want the gravity to bring us closer

My brain is wearing concrete sneakers
It’s laces and tongue a coarse rock
Intertwining through the synapses
Disappearing into thoughts
My brain is wearing concrete sneakers
The sole a cold and lifeless plane
Unmatched from the start
Thrown off the pier of memories

You drag me along
Fields of glass
Pushing my face in the
Shards resembling dirt
To your crystal cliff
Release me down
The spectral drop
Might be beautiful
If it weren’t the end

Maybe I need to shift polarity
Maybe that’ll bring you towards me
If only I became a bit more positive
Maybe a bit more negative
I’m not sure anymore
Maybe then you’d become attracted again

I like to play with knives
It makes me feel alive
The danger of their sting
Why should I survive?

The knife begins to dance
My skin it wants to glance
The blood it wants to bring
Drifting into trance

The knife comes to a close
Its ballet now has froze
It's handle I will cling
And bleeding canvas grows

But knives will lose their touch
And thus I leave it’s clutch
And now my heart doth sing
For you do just as much