I'm excavating your ribcage
Looking for answers
Of when things went wrong

I'm no mathematician or buddhist priest
But I'm really good at French toast
And overcomplicating myself

I convinced my coworkers I'm a vampire
Even though I'm vegetarian
The only kind of bloodlust I have
Is for loggers
(They took away my Mother nature)

I'm also really good at being over-dramatic
In a non serious way
You're wearing broken ankles on your wrists
How did those get there?

                                                         ­            Did you walk all over me
                                                              ­       With your hands
                                                           ­          Around my neck

Your hands were the noose that will pull the trigger and make me swallow all those sleeping pills so that people realize my pillows aren't made from the ocean

                                                          ­            You are that critical blow, K.O.,
                                                           ­            last breath,
                                                                ­      That push over the edge                                              

I'm really good at letting my
Scars be neon flashing lights
and/or ants that are
crawling,biting, poisoning
my memories

Letting my past,
                    Make me a Ghost of Today

I'm excavating your ribcage
And everything checks out
But I think you left your
heart at the train station

Most trivial 20 moments
https://youtu.be/MmdyqeM_FLM

I'm still so sensitive
in parts of my body
that have not been rubbed raw
by human touch

Are you a pro at processing?
Digesting information

If so the brainwashing station
    **Might just be for you!

Run rabbit,
they say you live a second time,
wrote a bedtime story that was
pornographic in nature/features.

Heavens on earth, and earth is in hell.

They say they're gonna teach you
They say they're gonna learn it to you
Love me like a child and I'll
betray you like a father.

Prodigal son come back from
a land made holy by tongue-worship.
He said, "Now is the time we set aside
our petty bloodshed
and keep quiet where justice
fears to reveal itself."

Study sleepy water
Build bricks in your showers
Try to find some balanced ground

Streets crawl like rivers
Buddha is the new potassium
Black is the new fast track

Try to find some Hometown

Tennis Courts are tea tables
              the places we sit and think
      Inside the box

Leave your scars/mistakes/All the pieces of you that are plates
                                       Fragile, easy to break
In the car, locked, just like your keys

Stand on rooftops with umbrellas
             Waiting for Meteorites        
Find some Peace of Mind

Or Open & Close them
  Like S.O.S
And signal for Help

Build houses like Sandcastles
To realize time is eternal
           But you aren't

Keep your childhood like a locket

You aren't a puppet
      Socks are

Find some confidence
      And let sheep be for counting only

I built a nest out of telephone wires
Waiting for a text message
That never came
          like the lover in the 1930's
          and the boy at war

   *He's never coming Home