The sun leans on the roof of Wanted workers
The money they make is built on the money in graves
Protest signs in dumpsters
Astrology signs in caves
The strings; they are pulling
The strong; they are ashamed
The weak; they are to blame
Baby doll has no name

I've been here once before and I'll never be again
I've said that once before. This time I'll hold my breath
It's certainly her body. Is it then her soul?
Is the fault that of the master? He must be in control
I'll tell her it's alright, but the truth is I don't know
Baby doll is not alone
Baby doll does not know

The sun bends past the roof
The money has been made
Protesters have been mistakes
New parking's being paved
Baby dolls don't have a face
They are personified
Baby dolls can not feel pain
The master forces hand
Baby doll's not in the plan

Be kind, please rewind
To a time when time was all but nine
A time that filled itself with pride
A pride that fulfilled itself through mine

Be kind, please remind
To a mind that cleared itself at night
A faux pose in pictures, an absent sight
Like motion pictures with a lack of light

Be fine, redesign
An erasable head with a rolling supply
A post to guide my fixed eyesight
The tension is pinned between plastic and life

Be mine, realign
Our love's been layered, wound and shy
The price we paid to play it, right?
The tape is thin, we rolled our die

Be blind, believe in eyes
Alive and across a long divide
that ceased to exist outside of the tide
The place we are hidden that no one can hide and the place we all seek that no one can find

The godwashed

Just rewind. Be kind.

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!"

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

Hopeless romantic
I hope it's not malignant

Hope less, romantic

I want to spin wildly, to shake myself to the very core. I want nothing more in this moment, and the punishment is that I'm motionless. Calm.

I can't move.

Not so much as a single breath to grant myself the energy to eviscerate my desire. I am a stone wishing to be water and the pain is that I'm drowning in it's absence. Forget the things you know and remember what you don't. Nothing in this plane has ever made me more alone.