The darkness inside me left,
But so did the light
Stuck with the emptiness of stability,
I have no demons left to fight
My bittersweet friends met bittersweet ends
So now who's going to give me my insecurities about my weight and my height?
Who's going to restore my anxiety with that perfect sight?
What's going to make me feel like **** as I cry myself to sleep at night.
I'm stable now,
but it just doesn't feel right
Life is a spark of light flickering briefly in the darkness of before birth and after death.
Rejoiced we should be at this spark,
but leave it to us to find so much darkness in our short breath
Leave it to us to have these vivid colors and see gray at every step
Leave it to us to be left as dust and let our memories between the light be simply brushed away
Ketamine and ******* on the streets of new York city
Homeless models at lavish *****,
Unimaginable ugly lies just behind this hollow pretty walls.
Camera flashes and snubbed ashes,
Giving head in scribbled stalls
In a world that lacks all pity,
How I do look quite pretty
That stupid lamp
acting like an inanimate object
But its not
No, its deception run deep
But I can see past it
I saw it move
I swear it
Twelve little toes it walks along
moving under the flicker of its light
Thats why the normal man fails to see
I see it though
I want to unplug it
Let it stay dormant in the dark
But dare I move and miss where it goes
winters lifeless lips breathe out bitter air. Snow falls down onto silent town squares for no one to see.
Yet here I am
I wander along as the lone source of breath on streets where only shadows walk
I drift aimlessly through the white painted town.
Giving empty streets corners a new shadow
And then taking it back just as fast.
In an hour any trace of me being on this street is gone.
In a lifetime or so any trace of me ever being might be gone too.
My whole existence might be for nothing at all.
So I'm left with a question:
If nothing I do stays the way I made it
Then why change anything at all?
Red sky at night
Brings great fright
To those that profit from the storm
The spinning winds, blackened skies
Oh wind, Oh ocean, how classic
Lifeboats without Raging waters and
whitecaps are just overpriced orange floats
The loss of life is tragic yes
But who would want a lifeboat if it never rained?
It truly only happens sporadically
though you wish it not happen at all
But alas, it must
for the profit from the storm
After the red sky charred and the moon lit the sky. I felt a wave of exhaustion push close my eyes. I felt the waves drag me into The dream weavers caverns. As my body twisted and turned they wove a tapestry of my scattered thoughts around me. All my wishes and all my wish-nots strung together into a silky magical cloth. They hung it over my shoulders. It was weightless. If I tossed it would surely fly. They tugged on my gift, drifting me me from star to star till the moon dropped and faded away. They all kissed me goodbye and floated to space with the rise of skys first morning rays