Fleeting feelings
Will they come again
Raw pain
Cutting
Shooting
Will it come again
Can you miss the
Originality of first times
Of that rush of adrenaline
From that time you swore you died
And the stories
Oh the stories
So funny now
But they weren't always
Each one digs further into your skin
Sometimes they carve deeper
Leaving a mark on your soul
It's those times that never fade
They sit in your memory as vibrant
As neon in the night

Words flowing
Through the
Endless circle
Of birth and rebirth
Of betrayal and death
Hurt and be hurt
The burning house
Holds no mercy
Holds only
Secrets turned ash

Words glob like honey
Stuck to the roof of my mouth
Sickeningly unspoken

I've let madness pour out of my soul to swirl among the vastness of the stars

You sit in front
Staring at once was
Contemplating your place
Among the swarming crowds
And the unfathomable abyss
Reminiscing about
The hurried sweat of summer
And the cold tang of winter
And the Jazz that seamlessly rolled
Days into years  
And decades into history books

Flowers crawl under their jagged fingernails
Addicts rushing to the next fix
Ignoring the death that surrounds them
Ignoring the hurt and the pain
Ignoring that most of the time they **** instead of save
Within themselves they dismiss the decay that rests in wrinkles and eyes as fifteen becomes fifty becomes an obsession with an known end point
Something completely fixed but strangely floating in flux between what they feel and what they don't want to feel