I ran towards the door
not so they could let me inside
I pushed through the crowd
not so i could buy
I thew a coin to the wishing-well
not because it was a transaction
I said nice things to my reflection
not for him to  reply
I ran towards the door
not so they could let me inside
I wanted to feel the option
to be kissed by lips
not the curb of the pavement
I hoped I knelt I prayed
I never asked for a reality
just the right to dream
for a reason to live isn't needed
when i can make a million reasons not to die

figures, flames and dancing silhouettes
shades and flashes and a zing
warmth, chills and lost in azure cloud
falling to a limitless pit
a face a mirror a pathway
a door a lamp a distance
a shadow a fear a climb a cliff
a death a memory a gateway.

he thuds the loosely held floorboards
and smashes through the heavy pub door
he orders for a bottle instead of a glass
his coat drenched in filthy rain
his breathe smells like the rim of his bottle
and his shoes protruded a toe
wounds of glass from his last endeavors  
and needle marks not from the hospital
his crooked hands and messy hair puts anyone at a distance
once he was a gentlemen a father and a husband
once he had love and loved so many
once he had no need for needles
the bottle in his hand had only lukewarm milk
the bar tender was a stranger he'd never met
and his foot was only weary of legos misplaced
his shoes was stitched with a patch of a bunny
this man who was thrown
this man who was now a widower
and the smiles of her daughters trapped in his wallet
torn to shreds skinned to core
A blotted out smile on a blotted out photo
he now finds comfort in forgetfulness
to not remember the "how it used to be"
he has forgotten their graves and with it his promises
as their flowers wilt and perish
for a life a love an existence
is only meaningful if it has a memory

Oh cry of the heavens why pat my shoulder
will they ever return to me
I think  not
thank you for lending your heartfelt sighs
but I too can cry a river
but like all rocks, sharp and cutting
my tears will go around them
and within their hearts
will remain dry.

The Convicts and the kingdom
have finally fallen
and the jailbirds will cry
through the iron bars they'll whimper
and concrete towers they built on our graves
are their prisons of solitude
tell the sky she can cry tears of joy
and the rivers to carry them pure
tell the deer that they may roam
without a rifle sighted at their belly
this might not be long or as painful for them
but thank the guardians for giving earth
one last breath of fresh air before
they destroy the world  forever

A cherry blossom deemed soft
yet a rose deemed ******
how is it that red screams danger
and pink births comfort
if once blended with a dash of white
does it forget of its tainted shade
does it blend so fine
that pink is purer than white
one must never forget that
A coal was once a flame
the pink was once a crimson

Watch the quill dance her Waltz
spinning from a corner to another
dressed in a brides vail of feather
her trail of sweat drawing colors on the dance floor
painting mesmerizing as her puppeteer spins her around
but when the dance is over
and she takes her bow
only the nameless trails of her effort remains
no one will know the dancer
and only the puppeteer
gets a standing ovation
while the curtain closes her away
and she is casted back
into the wooden box she was summoned from.