Sometimes I wish I was born as a boy
my late-night strolls wouldn't be seen as coy.
Sometimes I wish I was born as a boy
at least I wouldn't be reduced to a mere toy.

Sometimes I wish wasn't born as a female
my life story would have been a tellable tale.
Sometimes I wish I wasn't born as a female
my journey wouldn't have been filled with storms and hail.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't born at all
coz there nothing I hate more than being a life-size doll.

break me on the wheel
while the wheel spins
argentia road
and all i see are crows
gorging in the open field
and severed cornstalks everywhere

this night
i burned your clothes
beneath the palest stars
to cherry embers for my bed
love, i dreamed of empty graves
and the undivided moon

such a fragile thing
to sigh for the sake of breathing
no more, no more
i am claimed by blood-soaked hands
and my resolve is dead

They are the destroyers,
They have come through air,
Burning our streets and
spreading out despair,

With their stolen voices,
They have joined the laugh,
Burning through the corpses,
The righteous attack.

We are fallen warriors,
bodies rot in dirt,
We are eyes of ravens,
The blood of the earth,

With a rusty weapon,
We will spread the word,
The swords of our forefathers
are not of this world.

The cloud will spread,
The sky is dead,
Remains are bared,
The sky dies scared.

No mercy!
No freedom!
No mercy!

but that handle was made for his hand
hand - handle
handle - hand

the fingers would close
around it to never let go
It had to have flesh around it
at all times
But the blade...
the blade was still naked. He couldn't let
the blade naked
It wasn't fair

"So that's why you stabbed your
mommy then?" the psychiatrist asked him.

"Yes," he said.

"The knife is more important
to you than mommy?"

"The knife listens. Mommy doesn't."

We slept on the spare couch
A half remembered dream that I have bled for
My eyes drenched in slumberous salt
Dewy eyelids threaten to close
And yet we chase sleep into the desert
With bells dragging behind our backs
To have rest rob our pockets
A tsunami in the grave
A half remembered dream of rooftop travels and serenades
Hushed giggles in the dark
This dream that I have suffered and died for
A dream I have given my life for
Starts to fade anyway

Tip toeing around the sun
Silence so peaceful
Graceful sails into summer

Truth was a breath
of cold November air
Escaping from her soft lips
Truth was warm
a breath of purpose
A spoken word
Tasting sweet nuance
A fresh, crisp blow
of season's new flair
Something so subtle
yet undoubtedly alive.