A box of rusted feelings hides in the salvaged yard of my mind.
Jagged sorrows and broken promises surround the dismembered machinery,
forgotten and guarded.

The old dog with his once beastly growl, no longer cares who leaves or stays.
The dirt below, slowly pulling
forming his final resting place.

Shabby parts like tired looks rot under thunderstorms of powering weather.
Torn threads like once relationships, patched and torn asunder
The Stacks pile high, a top the years of mistakes
The box slowly sinks
heaving more and more heartbreaks

There are tunnels to places with holes in the world.
The bottom is endless where darkness endures .
I can hear from the top, a voice pulling me down.
The twinkle captures my thoughts in a rhythm of sounds.

I've walked passed the rabbit hole too many times.
Choosing to remain unscathed by it's crimes.
And every day I wander back to its door.
Enraptured with the calling and dark of it's world.

Each morning I linger at the base of the hole.
Lulled by the melody, seeping below.
Time crashed to a halt standing perfectly still.
My head is a maze, completely robbed of my will.

I reach down with hands, both clean and warm,
to feel the dirt and cold pour out of her core.
I know that I shouldn't, I know that I might,
take a trip down the hole and be back before night.

Obsession grows, taking root in the mind.
Dragging me down, one day at a time.
As I sit by the hole contemplating my dive.
I slowly spiral down without ever knowing why.

There are tunnels to places with holes in the world.
There are those that will dive and those that will swirl.
There are those that will fall without knowing they have.
Fatality drowning in darkness stuck in a trap.

For in her eyes
lie solemn cries
Irises of icey blue

With in her mind
You will find
Voices playing tunes

First, they sing
Last, they sting
Screaming, screaming
Hear them ring

They tell her lies and sprinkle truth
They lure her soul into the blue

Can you see her eyes
How they truly cry
Irises of icey white

Can you find
With in her mind
The answers of the night

If all around me the world was ending,
The here and now collapsing breath by breath
Would you be standing close to me
whispering how we met?

Would your hand be warm,
flush against my cheek?
Brushing tears from falling,
rushing like a creek.

If brimstone fire flames rose high,
Scorching all that live
Would you cast a magic spell,
a protective cage to give?

If all the lights were smothered out
and darkness sank across the ground
would you stand tall against the black?
Your heart, my light bulb, forever bound?

My dearest violet, my tempered thorn
With every word dropped like water to a petal
your vibrant exlicer powders my heart with bruises.

Yet I return each day, bowed before your feet
hands begging for more violence.
I'll take your cold throws
fully addicted to your touch.

I know not what I am,
though I exist, I persist in the acts of wondering
Am I here?
or are you there?
How does Einstein know which way is up?

If you live, long after you were born
long after your death,
would your light still show
Could you call it forever?
Or is it just another breath?

Would you call it a moment
or something much more potent.

I know not what I am
I see only stars, forever they spread
out past the future,
out near the end.