Ignorance is a light
that many men follow
and I too for some time
was a fool to its flames

This is no fairy tail or a callow dream
I’m inside a black and white reality
Here there’s no fun anomalies
I can feel the fear that faces me

Bag on my back, plan intact
My breath chasing down this act
Courage compelling me to sign the pact
To seize freedom from a lost land

Each step sparks a second guess
Will this idea betray me to regret
Even with instinct screeching out my chest
Follow the present, forget the rest

Pick out memories to make a trail
Unload all empathy so I won’t bail
Anticipation becomes stale
Just an inch of hope helping me sail

I finally find a forest of friends
A sigh of relief, I breathe in the end
The trees, the flowers, my soul distends
Escaped to a place where my mind can amend

The buds of new love, snipped-
as sad a sight as the body of a bee, dead amongst my feet

We should be flying too

through fields of wildflowers
but we were not granted
what we should
as one finds a kindred soul
we may not have eachother

Paper planes weren't made to cross the ocean
Not the Pacific or the Atlantic
Paper hearts weren't made to burn all night
A quick flame and a bright flash
Paper loves weren't written to last forever
Nothing more than a rhyme and a rhythm
But then my paper love turned real like Pinocchio
And sold my soul to the darkness below
And my paper heart burns but refuses to turn to ash
The fire growing brighter and hotter everyday
And the paper planes circle high around the moon
Over the ocean to give my heart to you
And now I'm made of paper
And my blood has turned to ink
And my marrow is the pulp to the pulse
And you're now my paper queen
With my paper heart
A jewel in your crown
As I'm just a paper fool
A paper puppet
A paper love
Ruled by you

Nobody is born an artist
You become an actor
And act like an artist

You will never feel loved
Because you will never
Achieve the ideal
Which is the only
Thing deserving
Of love

I'll hold on
until it doesn't make sense
and when you tell me there's no point,
I'll give you a reason to love
and to hold on.

Begin with the end.
It ended with a quiet conversation,
after you had thrown me out
and I spent a weekend
on call at work,
or sleeping in the warehouse.
You said okay, come home...
I said no,
I was tired.
Tired of your need to control me,
tired of having to hide my art
because I married a writer
who came to her senses
and got a real job.
I should have seen it sooner;
even though when times were good,
they were wonderful.
Never had a better shotgun
on the road trips.
We had years of heartache and bliss,
wishing for the early days
when we sat for hours
discussing what kept us alive
in quiet conversations,
the end planted
in the beginning.