I wrote a song about you The first I've ever done I've been playing seventeen years You'll never hear it sung If I have to breathe the lyrics I'll set fire to my tongue I never talk about myself because then you could not run
I'm a lie behind a fountain The sun is to the moon I hate the outer space I lay inside—entombed
The granite cast of actors Their eyes are made of gold I'll take their scripts and hearts and souls and sell them for more gold Your smile led me in circles You sought for what you sold It was simply circulation Your hands were awfully cold
Take it while it's cold It still won't splatter Drink it on the stove It still won't matter Seal it's lips to kiss It still won't chatter Raze it's cropped to dust It still won't gather ***** it from its lenses It still won't stare Rip it from the moonlight It still won't glare Take it like a pill It won't be taken lightly It's in my heart—in yours It will never grasp you tightly It's never holding still
You simply can't deceive it It just misunderstands What's wrong with you, is wrong with me You lack the essence of a friend Things grow from roots that split The strand means to an end I don't like to say favorite It has a way of changing plans
I'll look down at you "Your hair—it still looks nice" You'll look down at me I won't be looking twice
An interest in indifference Beneath my heart I arrived alone From the very start
Interested in difference The sun was on my way To hold my breath before I'd speak To match my mind's forte
The certainty as a child was brusque in all it paid Gathering for keeping's sake made keepsakes that have stayed The nostalgia of my age
The heart would pool fully Parents not at peace Gripping my blanket's corners My size–it would decrease My ripples were at ease
Interestingly indifferent It gave me all I made It justified the center of mistakes I had to make The rock The bus The kid The cuts The run The door That turn The anti-yearning The core The burn That art of learning
The rustic sheet of a door screams as we pull it like a scab We step inside this warehouse can Two floors - we're holding hands His eyes lit like a crescent Moon - excited, he yells "daaad!"
Our head, like swaying swing We see it all, tongue in cheek Like controls without the freak It's so much fun it stings
An asymmetric wasteland Convenient and distorted The walls - bleak and boarded A symbolic sleight of hand
This is where we feel My father's on the catwalk Like paranoia paraphernalia My son's grip tightens, it's the only thing that's real
Absolute felicity To realize what I have in the confines of my hand Imperfection in the making - he doesn't understand Skylarking permissably
A reverie to remember His smile - sifting through his eyes Warm, he maneuvers like the flies He was born in December
Moving closer to my father He's amidst the in-between Consistently foreseen His motion is no bother
He steps along the ply Somehow keen in his demeanor Four-years-old, but greener Tossed and turning - it's the gleaner
The sheet has been disturbed He's falling to his death I'm blanketed in sweat This cannot be deserved
My father's eyes - they match my own I tear through the distance Foreseeing and consistent My father is a witness
The fear - he's fighting falling We've never known it more His tiny hands just wishing there were nails Collective - we're losing all things
I grasp a finger as he falls but not enough to bring him back My son approaches pavement as it fills my throat the same I look him in the eyes as they melt away in pain My body wakes without my mind - hysterically screaming "DAAAD!"
This happened to me. I awoke, but it didn't make the memory any better. Only the ones to come.
Her hair: intertwined with mine like fine lines in disguised pines Our lives: making life like lovers do - letting our mistakes live to let ourselves
Who's who in this zoo built for two?
Will I find time to find the kind of mind that pries at mine despite the time I've formalized into time I can't divide?
I try to meet ends with the women that I meet, really never knowing me - like a fish without a sea and falling bird without a breeze - easily bequeathed with ways to satisfy and please
I evaluate the fragile and get diagnosed a cynic I empathize with strength but get too into it to win it I believe that I am different for the sake of being different but if everybody's different, then everybody isn't
I feel it is my life, and it's none of my ******* business