It's another kind of nightmare,
It's the feeling of a lifetime,
Open to the limelight,
And now I'm reaching for your lifeline,
Over the bugs inside your eyes,
I hope you won't understand,
Because I dont.

My heart has never beat so fast,
Inside this hollow chest,
I think I might die,
I think I might die.

Alone in an empty cinema,
Only the projection,
Of talking heads,
That live and die perfectly,
Again and again, for the seats, sitting all alone,
When the world is framed like a painting,
You fall in love with its sprawling, open flaws.
Put out to be discovered.

I first met her in a sunflower
feild,
Filled with sunshine and bugs,
In the tall stems,
She lifted up the corners of her mouth,
At everyone,
And me,
I tried to scream at her, and hit her with my soft fists,
But she took them in her hands instead,
And she was running too fast to hear me,
Or even care.

The poet with a rusty brain,
Cold metal submits to colour, and the rain
that falls inside,
The cogs and gears stopped moving,
Held still,
By Burnt Ochre,
And water thoughts - rushing, drowning, singing.

Yesterday when my nerves and brain were fried
By the sun,
And we all yelled at eachother in happiness because it hurts when your alone for such a long time,
We ran all around the burning town,
And later,
The full moon and the smoke from the chimney,
Swallowed us whole

The drawn out holiday,
that made your head so sick it was painful to think
its been like this for a while now,
your own short eternity
So, you wonder when it will stop
and fall
into somthing worse, because it will soon
running upwards or downwards
its only the same