Because I know I've got good intentions
But no one else here thinks I do
Is it because of a bad impression
Or because an honest word is something new

I guess it doesn't help that it seems
I've something that I try to hide
Behind a bitten tongue, a shared bottle
And another starry skyed black night

We sit here in front of a fire
Sharing stories of fires past
Most are told by perfect liars
Yet they all think that mine move way to fast
Don't they know that's how all the best things happen
That, and they're often all done out of sight
And just because they unfold quickly
Doesn't mean they weren't done just right

The fire keeps on keeping on
While the group breaks off into smaller cliques
And as the bottle drains its way to empty
They look for other things to wet their lips

Couples start to vanish in the fog
To places that are best kept secret
Like vampires running from the sun
They disappear from places kept well lit
A small blonde with a pixie haircut
Takes my hand and leads me somewhere silent
She kisses me, hands on my chest
And tells me we need to keep things quiet

So now I sit here with my mouth shut
For just the second time tonight
But the hush didn't last very long
My voice was given up without a fight

Sometimes I think
I think too fast,
Too fast for my own good.
Sometimes my thoughts
They make no sense,
An overdose of words never could.
Sometimes ideas
They come as pictures,
Framed in amber wood.
Sometimes they fill
Spots in memories,
Where absent friends once stood.

Sometimes I fear
I fear too much,
Of things that aren't real.
Sometimes nightmares
Come when I'm awake,
My soul they try to steal.
Sometimes self-conciousness
eats at me,
I grow sick with its every meal.
Sometimes they make me
Shy away,
From the feelings that I feel.

Sometimes I think
I think too fast,
Too fast for my own good.
Sometimes my thoughts
They make no sense,
An overdose of words never could.
Sometimes Ideas
They come as pictures,
Framed in balsam wood.
Sometimes they are
My only friends,
I'm finally understood.

The womb of the mind
births a child of fear

Smooth, Sleek, Structured
Caramel colored and Calm
Slight scratches show
A past of pain, no glory
Smooth, Sleek, Structured
Caramel colored and Calm
A Soft and Simple stone

Too bad I hate rocks
Even one this beautiful.
Rocks are ******* boring.

Katie loves gin
and the way it makes her act
She states her thoughts about the world
as if each of them were fact

It makes Adam feel
                    Like she's the one

Because Adams been lost
since the day he first found
the first pretty girl
he made make a pretty sound

Her name was Sara
                    And they’re still friends

Sara liked to move fast
and liked to leave even faster
until she found the perfect ****
who she's dubbed The Master

His name is Max
                    And he keeps secrets well

He only sleeps with women
when he's drunk and on the run
He's never shared the secret
of where he holstered up his gun

A pistolero of a man
                    Who's name is Tom

Who only met with Max
when he was mad at his bride
Who had a secret of her own
of who she sees on the side

A therapist named Paul
                    Who pretends to listen well

Paul likes to drink
on the job he calls weighty
and finds irony in his favorite patient
a little drunk named Katie

Whom he's often told
                    Should speak her mind

So she had a party
and told friends to invite friends
But once the therapist arrived
it began to spell the end

Secrets spilled
                    And people cried

Tom and his wife
ended up in a divorce
During which he left Max
in an attempt to make it work

And now Max drinks
                    Almost every night

He almost always ends up
on the couch in Sara's house
after putting down his bottle
and getting lost in her blouse

She tells all her friends
                    She thinks she's in love

It forces Adam into envy
who try's to make something out of lust
with a crazy little drinker
for whom he could never be enough

She's already been asleep
                    Wrapped in a doctors arm

Who's already unraveled
                    This strange ball of yarn

"Go steady with me
I know it turns you off when I
I get talking like a teen
I get talking like a teen"

Yes, it does.
You read so well.
But it turns me on
when you speak
with such elegant grammar,
each word turned over
in your mind,
waiting to find it's perfect placement;
a lot like Stephen King,
another soul capable of capturing
my a.d.d.led attention.
Oh, what I'd do,
to be placed among
the proper nouns you leave out
and the procreated proverbs
you seem to sell your secrets to.
Instead, it seems,
you've caste me to the cemetery,
with the other animals,
only later to be risen from the dead.

The leather was ice cold
in my car and my backseat.
So, we spread out my suitcoat
like a blanket on the beach;
not enough to make much difference,
but it kept the sand off of our feet.
I guess this was the perfect getaway,
a fitting end to a bitter week.

It's the way those lights pull at me,
that's how I know I don't want to go back.

It's how gravity seems skewed
and I'm falling
into the endless doorway
that is Pretty Lights.

Talib Kweli sang my lullaby;
I finally fell asleep to Kanye lines.
And the bathroom floor shouldn't melt this way,
it needs to be more esoteric.

She was as smooth as Tarantino dialogue.
And you could tell she was dangerous.
But she seemed more content to dagger me with words
than shoot me with the guns at her hips;
maybe that's why they were penned with a point
and drawn in a deep black ink.
I thought she wanted to tie me down
'cause that's what she wanted me to think.
She talked on how she'd change her ways
and how she could help me do the same;
she spoke of working towards a living
rather than dying like a slave.
She led me to my own room,
to sheets that once were bright and red
but had now faded to maroon rust
like the blood of those long dead.
She showed me every country in the world
without us leaving from my den.
She brought me every star in the night sky
without ever reaching up a hand.
She took me around the world
in much less than eighty days,
but she was gone when the morning came.
She took my money, drugs and faith.

Her voice was the sweetest thing
that she will ever speak, if only
she would speak to me again.

When the chocolate strawberry that is her voice
melts onto my tongue and into my ear
things appear that shouldn't.

The strange lands, my unbalanced self.
But with her voice, the sweetest thing,
I feel that all other people make no sense.

So I'll risk it - I'll risk everything I have
for the invisible caress that turns my skin to fire.
The caress of the infinite fingers made by her beautiful voice.

The infinite serpent
that devours his own tail,
as he reaches the end,
is back where he began;
restarting the journey
inside out

I don't know what's more shallow,
me or the graves that I've dug.
I can't tell what's more empty,
my heart or the ones that I've loved.
I don't feel what's on fire,
Is it my eyes or the bridges I've crossed?
I wonder what's more winding?
My thoughts or the path that I walk.
I can't decide what's more frightening,
the ghosts that I carry or the people I haunt.
I cant see what cuts deeper,
the dagger you've drawn or the things that we want.

The infinite serpent
that devours his own tail,
as he reaches the end,
is back where he began;
restarting the journey 
outside in

Like a baseball bat
in a room full of clocks
Just swing, Jack, swing
no longer give any *****
Turn them all back,
and then stop them completely
At a time when my fangs
were not yet wisdom teeth
My grip,
I'm losing it
Like a montegues
on a capulet
My vices,
mobbed with pitchforks
Is it being lonely
or in good company that's worse?

Another albatross bends into a thousand canyons
As the battle blossoms another home fades away
Nothing fills the voids left by broken wings
The price of every burden bleeds out for free

That day the grass boiled,
the sky churned
and the trees melted.
That day I felt better
than you will ever comprehend,
I felt a joy that can only be described
as purely indescribable;
I was the king of my own universe,
tucked neatly away
behind a small suburban neighborhood
where the flowers sold secrets
and the hills truly had eyes.
I was the god of a bridge that evening,
it only stood because I willed it to.
My consciousness was not as sturdy,
gaining omnipotence
took the wind right out of my step.

I woke up
swearing I'd never eat
another mushroom.

I used to love
being all on my own
That was until
I had you in my home
We'd have music play
and all the lights would be on
I haven't flipped a single switch
since you've been gone

I used to love you
like a shark loves the smell of blood
And now I'm stuck missing you
so ******* much
We used to play games
like opposing teams
But those battles were never
as bad as they seemed

I miss your face
I miss your hands in mine
I miss all the gloomy days
when you'd let your sun shine
I miss your mistakes
Hell, I even miss the lies
But I don't regret the fact
I left tears in your eyes

No, I don't miss the pain
and I don't miss the fights
Now that your gone
I'm fast to sleep every night
I don't miss waiting on you
or being your mother
But I do miss the joys
of having a lover

I feel so bad
for leaving you lost
But you were eating my soul
and it wasn't worth the cost
I don't miss the fears
I don't miss the mistrust
I only miss the feeling
of there being an "Us"

Yeah, I only miss the feeling
of there being an "Us"

"I've got this army of two thing
figured out:
You and me against
everything under the clouds.
An eye for an eye
leaves the world blind
yet you'll only taste blood,
biting your tongue all the time.
So when we get the chance
let's head for the hills.
We'll take all the drugs
and leave all the pills."
Take a testosterone boy
and a  harlequin girl
and just like the old song,
a story will unfurl.

Because every man is a town
inhabited by his ghosts;
whichever haunt is around
sees change in the host.
She can taste each drug
that's ever touched his lips
and she feels herself fall
every time that he slips.
There's a white line between addiction
and recreational use,
you need to conquer it
before it starts to consume you.
Eventually the nature
of his addiction will spread
and it starts to fill the cracks
inside his loved ones head.

She's blinded by his single
glaring quality;
her eyes have turned the green
of his hard earned money.
She can't hear anything
over his way with words
so she divides all that he says
into thoughtful thirds:
The times that he's right,
the times that he's wrong
and the things that sound like lyrics
from a cheesy love song.
He's calculated all his moves
and stolen all his lines
and the haze he's put around her
almost makes her feel fine.

He just wants someone
to be proud of what he's done
'cause his mother gives love,
yet he's received none.
And she just wants someone
to approve of her thoughts;
she's never been accepted
yet it's all that she wants.
They've confused love
with a complacency
but to everyone else
the truth's presented clearly.
A scattered home
comes from a scattered mind,
now their losing control
and running out of time.

They sat Together
on the porch with Their hot chocolate
now beginning to chill

He had so much to tell Her
how He felt
how He saw Her
how much She mattered to Him
He was so embarrassed to share His feelings
He was even worried
as to how HIs breath made clouds in the cold air
Hers were not as noticable

there were many things keeping Them apart
the slight mount of snow building between Them
the frigidness of the cold air
and the secrets

the secrets
hanging around Him
like the halo of the snow angel
She had made earlier that night

the love He had for Her
as refreshing as the cool air
against Her soft cheeks
yet He was afraid of it

He took Her hand in his
stared Her in the eye
and gathered His courage

then She said "I Love You"

This house still is not a home. 
Sure, all my stuff is here,
and I have even more than I did before;
which I've found is rare after a move.
I have things like freedom
and a spot in the garage.
A theatre major across the hall
who likes Portlandia as much as I do.
A giant mirror
leaning on the living room,
which I doubt Keiya will ever move.
Joe's Market is now a block away
instead of Matt Elliot,
who is the epitome of white trash.
And Mud Suckers,
where I can find a mean chai,
is just two blocks past that.
I have Dinkytown
and it's countless opportunities
within walking distance.

What makes a house a home, though,
is love.
Home is where the heart is
and my heart has no memories 
to help support itself here.
I haven't laid in this bed,
watching David Bowie
in The Labyrinth,
with my arms perfectly placed
in the chasms of another's architect;
I have yet to get lost,
in this now familiar place,
with someone
I am uncomfortably comfortable with.

Another burning body
cast by the candlelight
is a dancing soft reminder
of all the ghosts inside
There is a burning building
trapped out in the night
where the people on the top floors
would rather burn than fly
Your drowning all your sorrows
that you found in the unknown
seeing the somber path before you
carved into this game of thrones
Just another drowning soul
each of them lost at sea
and we give them our best wishes
instead of what they need

You'll call it fate,
I'll call it karma
You'll call it faith
in the armada

The blossoms of unconscious
found in the ambience of sleep
interrupted by explosions
and implosions of a dream
Like how nothing seems to make sense
without a bit of consistency
and how life just seems to roll on
giving us no time to breathe
You ask me all the questions
you've picked up through your life
and the only answers I can give
are the elements of surprise
We spend so much time on thinking
trying to make everything seem right
that we forget there are no answers
that can't be figured out with time

You'll call it fate,
I'll say your right
There's no point in wasting time
on another endless fight

Haven't you learned anything
from the tapes we've watched?
He'll die.
You'll say you can't move on.
You'll move on just fine in the city with me,
falling for one of my friends;
falling deeper down the rabbit hole
into some cliche label
that has yet to be properly named.
I'll then be forced into some war
I want nothing to do with,
and despite the fact
that I will become a broken man,
there will be no Beatles song
to carry me home.

We will sing and dance on the rooftops.
Forgetting the lower levels of our lives.

Oh sister,
if watching Across the Universe
has taught me one thing
it's that I helped to raise you right.
I just didn't know
it was right into the lions mouth
that is the urban crawl
of trading your life away
for dark dank bar corners
and aromatic head shops.

She read her book
Her eyes focused
Like a hawk on its prey,
Hunting down every next page

She read her book
In the shade of an umbrella,
Like a spine in a sleeve
She continued her numbered journey,
naive

She became excitable,
Nearing the end of her trip
Each page consumed in a hurry:
Four-oh-four, four-oh-five, four-oh-six

The plot thickened,
The ****** commenced
The past two hours
Flew by, so intense

She finished her book
And into the distance she looked




disappointed

The Mississippi gleams
like the rock on your hand.
Let its water fill your cup,
its steam fill your lungs
and let yourself go with the rapids. 
For every blow
you take to the face,
every little shot
that finds its mark
and every hit
that leaves you gasping for air
comes a new way to roll
with the real punches thrown.

The river keeps flowing
and your left with few choices.
Grab a branch, find some stability
and start a life outside the stream.
Stop fighting, let yourself sink
and burn out beneath the waves.
Or you can ride it out, every twist and turn,
and see what N'orleans brings.

This is the only time I get to myself
so of course I'm gonna write about myself
I guess this pen and paper is a form of self help

And I'll admit -
I feel less haunted

I've got a lot of **** to get off my chest
Like how I've always felt like I'm second best
To a world full of ******* idiots
who did a better job
of makin' life make sense

You see, I've got all these thoughts up in my head
and I don't think they'll ever stop until I'm dead
They tend to come on stronger while I'm in my bed
Hopin' to find some rest
In my knife-proof vest

Cause I've been stabbed in the back a few times
And my paths crossed a few thin white lines
(But I guess that's how it should be)

Cause I've had nights where I broke down and cried
After long hard days where I believed the lies
(Because she told me that she loved me)

And I used to love God
Then I used to hate God
Then I told God to his face
That he didn't exist
Then I found God
And oh, good God
I found that even with faith
life ain't perfect

So beneath our tongues we're slippin' secrets
And in our lungs we're holdin' deep hits
As we get lost in fleeting moments
we notice
we chose this

We are not for them

We've found bliss

Maggie won't stop watching Charlie Bartlett,
she claims she was Kat Dennings in another life.
I try to dissect her lack of compassion
with a cheap bottle of red merlot wine.



She says:

'I ride a ******* fixed gear.
I'd rather drive a car.
And although you'd never know
I self-inflicted this here scar.
Why do you like Stephen King?
Do you know what I'm thinking?
...
Anxiety really mellows a woman out.'

Her mind is like a whirlwind.
I don't know where to begin.
Should I ask about her fears
about her tears
or why she's so thin?
She's watching Netflix again
and I can't pretend
to understand the kind of man
that she wished I am.



She breaks the silence:

'I lie to strangers too much.
I'm afraid to be touched
or mistaken for someone
who's too much of a lush.
I feel I'm far too shy
and I don't know why.
...
Introspection really seems to calm me down.'

So we sit on the couch
just watching tv.
I think a calm and understanding
is all that she needs.
And when someone talks,
no matter how it seems,
sometimes a listener
is the best thing that you can be.

I don't expect you
to ever really understand
I just wish you had 
the courage to give me one chance
I know you haven't 
seen all the things that I've seen
And trust me I've seen 
far too much of everything
I don't know if it's the drugs
or the path I've chosen
I bet it's both mixed with 
how the blackouts always close in
I'd trade the world away
and all of its stress
for seven simple seconds 
lying next to you in bed
Staring into your eyes
talking deep about life
I bet those seven seconds
would bend the rules of time
Cause I could spend forever
swimming through your velvet voice
And you can tell us whats in common
between me and the lost boys
Time would keep us captive
it would **** off all our pains
like this overdose of Nyquil
slowly coursing through my veins

Just give me a sign
I'd make the right move
Just give me a rhyme
You make it so smooth
Just give me the time
I'd give all mine to you
Just give me a line
You always speak the truth

Everything my new friends say
Is drowned out by a light rain
While the acid on their tongues
Starts to pull each of them away

They'll be climbing trees all ****** day

DJs playing on the beach
With sand settling beneath my feet
The ***** and powders meet
And it starts to feel like ecstasy

At least that's what they're telling me

I spot you, so tame
Intrigued by your frail frame
I knew that it would come to this,
It is my favorite game

I stride across the sand, asking your name

The two of us walking through the trees
Your mini skirt inches above your knees
I start to get the sense
You do whatever it is that you please

I begin to think you're the one who's playing me

You say you hate a late bloomer
That people need to grow up sooner
And that all these ****** up kids
Are just another type of tumor

The universe has a meta sense of humor

And now you've got me alone
But you're losing control
You've crossed the thin line
Between belligerent and 'in my zone'

Oh God, I should have known

We are all what we hate
I like to call that fate
And it's why those filled with distaste
consume things that sedate

I've got you figured out, and that's checkmate

"Through darkness you have come to your hope,
and have now all your desire."
The falling sun shone,
to gleam like red gold,
and the white was turned to a flame.

Into the waste lands beyond,
they passed over.
For they were afraid,
for they were still.

On the sixth day they overtook an old man.
He was clothed in rags; another beggar,
slouching and whining.

"Where are you going?"
          "What is that to you?" he answered.
"You know the answers."
          "The time of my labours now draws to and end.
The burden would have shown you wisdom and mercy."
"I desire an answer"
          "Then once more you are going the wrong way."

How is his life?
     Has he seen the sights?
          And can he sleep at night?

       But does it all feel right?
He's got nothing to compare it to,
     so I guess it might.


There's a closet deep within this monster
and he only opens up when he feels like his father.
He squeezes his knuckles,
     a relief of tension,
but it still just aint enough to drown out the apprehension.
He's made of sticks and stones,
          of broken bones
   and abandoned homes -
open for a tenant
          with nowhere else to go.
But with just a little *****,
          smoke
               and wisdom
he can find the right mood
     to hold a rhythm
not unlike any other stage diver,
               cage fighter
     or rhyme writer.

A means to a loose end
                    to make the world feel lighter.

It first served as a conduit.
Somewhere pure to place
passions, pressures and people.
Now this place has become a board
where we must match
eachothers movement
with our own critical thinking.
Each tile filled with recycled lies
hidden within fresh new lines,
where every throw of the dice
could win you the round
or move you back in the ranks,
desperate and drained,
deservedly so.
The totems we've chosen for ourselves
move hastily through the rules,
guidelines and restrictions,
hoping that the next 'chance' card
we draw
might instead read 'fate,'
and that the game will finally cease.

So,
It's been a couple of weeks
and I'm starting to see:
there isn't much else
that you need from me.
It seems that for you
lust is simply enough,
you forgot about love
once you learned how to ****.
I'm surprised that your sweat
never came out in black,
that the heat never caused
ink to bleed off your back.

Now,
I've seen plenty of woman
use two men as a whole
I'm just not used to fulfilling
the physical role;
I've always been the one listening
on the phone late at night
wondering what your resting head
on my chest would feel like.
But now I'm the one
with my arms 'round your waist
who knows exactly how bitter
your lips always taste.

And,
it took me a while
to finally discover
that of these two halves
I was meant for the other.
Previous women all found
that I'm too thoughtful and kind,
that instead of stroking your ego
I'd rather pleasure you mind.
They say nice guys finish last,
it's the age old curse,
at least it made me feel good
knowing that you finished first.

So,
I'm calling it quits
while I've still got my head,
before I get used
to the scent of your bed,
because every time
that I've ever tried to talk
you tell me your busy
or you're out for a walk.
I just need to find someone
who wants to know me,
wants to dissect all my thoughts
and know why I breathe.


At least I know I can make you scream

Pure energy,
harnessed
but not controlled,
being used in the most primitive,
****** way;
The essence of both
fire
and dance,
Making love
in one beautiful
moment

"Forgo all the secrets
That are twisted in this spire
Lay them unto me
And I will walk them through the fire
They'll smell of ash stained brimstone
From the moment they arrive
But the fact that they've been whispered
Should make you feel you're more alive


Not everything perceived as evil
Has always been that way
Sometimes revelations
Are best saved for another day
What was once seen as an omen
Could be a blessing in disguise
Sometimes the coolest thing you'll ever touch
Is the fire in his eyes"

Did you notice,
that I noticed?
Yes, I noticed you.

If you wanted change
You should have asked for growth
You have what it takes
And you should have known

The lines that people like
I draw with no cohesion
They're simply strung together
Like your scarred, forgotten lesions

Like a message that hadn't
Been conveyed in a while
The fault line is lost
In the curves of your smile
Your teeth, like the ocean,
Wave in the wind
They have conjured up anger
For less fortunate men

I've sailed in search of demons
And twelve month old dreams
Yet I'll never find either
At least, that's how it seems

As I fiddle with theme
And get lost in motifs
I can't feel anything
Walking nonfiction streets

I swim up the mountains
and climb through the ocean
Not a secret was sold
before the notion
The language of bodies
speaks so well
Not even the soul
questions itself

Each time you recoil
to your northern roots
I am enamored.
Floored.
Caught in your web
like a leaf who's path,
being carved by the wind,
is brought to a sudden
and urgent 
stop.

We were only together
for what seemed like years.
But that was years ago.
And eventually we called it a day.
There have been
other girls since,
but none as calm,
kind
or gentle as you were. 
As you still are.

Every time I move past it
you retreat back home.
And Just like that,
the fuse is relit.
Like that night,
two years ago, in Boyds basement.
We didn't even kiss, but we did sleep
together. Side by side.
My arms around you.

I remember telling you
that I was in love. 
You were the first women
I ever shared those words with.
Im fairly positive that when you packed 
for Georgia
my heart was tucked away in your baggage.
It has resided in Atlanta
ever since.

Everyone I meet these days
likes to ask me what I do
And I was hoping until recently
that the answer might be you
But she took my hand when Sandra Bullock fell
and then she took me home to *****
And now my moral standing stands alone

and it's contradicted, too

Space loving:
You and me,
Swimming through each other
In The Great Empty
Spaceships
that pass in the night
Taking (clothes) off
At the speed of light

Oh Christ,
Soupy's done it again
With just his voice and a pen
He knows how to speak to me
Just through the lines that he mutters
******,
He's done it again
This time it's just like he said:
I wanna live in the city
But I wanna die in the suburbs

For once I don't care
Where the other roads lead
For the first time,
In a long time,
I don't hear them calling out to me
I'm not looking for anything
to start being distracting
I'm more focused on the path
that's been placed beneath my own feet

I've spent every waking day
Believing that everyone needed to be saved
Now I've finally found someone who does,
And for once,
I can't find the strength

     Am I losing my way?

Because I've been acting
like I'm losing my ground
But the truth is
I've been coming around
I've worked ******* picking up the pieces
And now
I dont want us to get attached

This way you can't bring me down

Is it too much to ask for
A pretty girl with a crooked face
Who's happy just to wake up
Just to have me every day
And maybe she doesn't believe
In the beauty that I see
But maybe that's the reason
She ever fell in love with me
Or am I bound to the loneliness
A man tied to a ball by chain
Left to drag the weight around
Forced to deal with all the pain
Pulling bones right out of sockets
Tearing muscles at their seams
Slowly slowing me down
Until I'm in the depths of dreams
Where just the thoughts of something warm
Are more soothing than the reach
Towards the always failing stars
Before they crash into the beach
And where things that don't exist
Have a shot at seeming real
And where things you'll never touch
Seem like something you can feel

We're outsiders, you and I
The Periphery
Watching everybody else
Pretending we're just like them
But knowing we're not

The best we can hope for
Is to find a place where we don't have to pretend

It's a shame really,
Under different circumstances
I think we could've been great friends

“To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles … ”

I find comfort in the sea of troubles
Yet, I enjoy drama springing from drawn bows
Is it worth the riches doubled
If solely gained through making foes?
A game of thrones is drawn on daggers
Sheathed beneath a sacred cloth
Do you force yourself to stagger
Drawn to the warmth of new gods?
Or do you throw it all away -
A peasant to a smaller fate
To find richness in each new day
Where in small comforts you partake?

Pretentious lies the one being

Left speechless lies his brother

They cannot hope to share what they’re seeing

With
               one
                              another

I got a postcard from the street
"I miss how you put your feet to me"
But she was always such a cheat

A ******,
            A *****,
                          A tease

And I don't expect you to understand
But, my darling, once again
My feet need to meet with their old friend

I think it's time we made amends

I get laden back
After having too much to think

You resemble innocence:
the second one grasps
the concept
it becomes nearly
impossible to retain.
You are a thing
lost to time.
Though,
whenever I am introduced
to an unfamiliar aspect
a tingle is shot
up my spine
in a way that is
unequivocal

again,
like innocence.

There's an angel up above us
He's just listened to a song
And he understands it's meaning
Although it wasn't very long
This devil sold a secret lie
Now she fears it's far too late
If she could turn back the hands of time
She would ask for a clean slate

When being on top of the world
Has me up on the ropes
I like to keep my options open
Like you keep your legs closed

I don't

Even the darkest of clouds
will run out of rain

A dream can be
A wonderful place to live
Where you can shape anything
To your whim
Unless it becomes a nightmare
Composed by static strife
But I don't want to dream anymore
I want to live in a real life

Though you may not be the man
You were when you fell asleep
(I guess that's sort of the point
To living in a dream)
Every passing minute
Is another chance to turn it all around
A chance to accept your losses
But still fight for solid ground

I would love to wake up
And be the mole on your chest
But I know I'll just be me
So that is who I must caress
And although the narrative is clearer
I still enjoy distressed formats
So, I'll still hope to see you in another life
When we are both cats
Yes, when your own dream should end
I hope you can finally clearly see me
And I hope you are no longer sad
When you're holding that martini

There's eyes in the back of my head
and fingers,
outstretched,
looking for anything they can

for something,
though they do not know what
A smile - A wink
A feeling in their gut

Something found, yet never read
Something that words just cannot capture
Their voice inside your head
The feelings of a rapture

A love, so fresh
that it could never be again
The feeling of new fingerprints
held tightly in your hand

A high
Unlike any substance can procure
Someone who understands you
who wants to feel what you endure

I've felt it once before,
yet no matter how I try,
I cannot recreate it
and I still cannot find why

Love is the answer,
that's what Rivers sings to me
But it's also a cancer,
and it makes no difference
what you believe