A somber admission that the wind isn't real
I'm hiding a wound in my side and i wince when i find
Underneath my skin
Is plastic

But the boy thought he was made of magic.

Nothing personal, woe-potentiation is in the taste of moldy leaves
Pressed flat with rain to the pavement of your hometown, like you
You scintillating *****
You, trading your talents for self-amusement
You, burning yourself in pieces and they'll never know
Never know what we could have been
For no reason

Closing off to the world in the dumbest, most unnecessary way
Burnt ashes on your lips will you kiss the cigarette backwards,
*****,
Travesty,
*****.

Breaking up with yourself is the best thing you can do, admit it
The wind isn't real
Love is a drug
We apportioned out for ourselves
Now cover my mouth with your hand and suffocate me because I said it

This garden has grown wild.

Here the marigolds choke,
There the thistle blooms,

Here the tulips suffer,
There the daisies revel.

There's a ******* with a waving cloak
Here to there, and never home
To answer for this lazy show

Here the roses luster;
Blistered, each begonia

Ivy spreading readily
Dead, my rhododendron.

Whenever time is fertile you should seed or you should swallow,
Depending on the moment.

And when you know it, you know it.

At least she saw the fire when,
At least she drank some better blend.

Although i hope its just a drought
The magic's turning into doubt

we don't need it
we can't use it
it's
JUNK

we don't like it
we don't want it
it's
JUNK

so how is she gonna live like this
when she didn't ask for all this
JUNK?

when a dream ruptures,
and sparks fly from our bones,
does the dust of collapse breathe a life of its own?

as my limbs are flailing
and my organs are failing
does something else feel less alone?

do the depths of the night
take breath and respite
knowing lost love will be someday sewn?

when the dew in the dawn
glistens red in the sun
do you think it really knows?

All the times we shared
Were trite
And cheap
Now the ashes of
Good memories
Slide from my hands
And onto the ground

Hardly was their purpose found.

All the trips to parks
And drives at night
Lost in time
All vain, and trite

I thought I had my reason down

Now logic fails me
I'm a clown

This wasted time is no device--
For as I live this life of dice
The meaning's in the guts to roll

I never did.

It took its toll

Compelled into existence by his sorceress progenitor,
See the great Elemental.

Travested now,
His back, his shoulders, his head
Sloping toward the ground