Spare bricks for the wall that could never find a successor
Collect historical evidence, as we forgot the books we read
Seems the songs have all been sung, all the strings have snapped
Fallen battles man, fought men and children
Worms and you, filling your 2 bedrooms with another self made reality
MTV created a life of insta, what do they even contribute?

Snooki lives in a basement, and heroes in everyday rags
Hunter S. blew his brains out, where has his words scattered?

Little black books, with numbers and phrases
To choose from the moments I created
Disowned onto a 3-hole punch line

And yet my mind seems vacant with all these empty trophies reflecting…

Chained to a world our parents knew, stuck with the ideals of an old dream
Trying to find out how it all, somehow, disappeared,
Struggling to find new ways to make the pieces fit

Is there anyone home?
The piano rings the last note,
As the day breaks from another clouded illusion
**"Of what is and was"

Here is the place, we once knew
Where all the colours of the rainbow,
Where they all came to die
The non-existent hues are overthrown by the contrast of past showers
As staring at an old photograph, curled and brown from light
The shadowless walls absorb the rays and consume them into a mere squint
Pushed back towards the white bricks as you struggle to balance yourself
Trying to explain but slurring speech is equivalent to my spelling
And the corner I am managed to find, is cold and bright too know, what this means

I wish I could write like Paul Simon,
“Time hurries on” As the days go from day to night
And the words had my head dissipates with the morning light
“Be careful, his bowtie is really a camera”
Constantly viewing things in different ways,
Books and books of my scribbled mumbles,
Only writing when I am constant, transient,
Wishing, for a cigarette, I know, Ill have to wait
Trying to bring the darkness onto paper
Trying to narrate some internal monologue between my selves
To spew out those tarnished replicas
To unleash the butterflies
While drowning the wings, with a technical solution
...The dangling conversation, reflecting the rhymes,
superficial lies,
The time of our lives
reaped with cobwebs in my mind

Bring out your dead,
All willing bodies stand your ground
This is the art of ruin,
Hold your scaffolds high
And your morals low
Bring out the monopolies and the cash crop
Raise them on a pedestal made for some kind of Greek legend
A heroic fight for what was, and an attempt to untie the knot
Brake the shackles of man made, rediscover the stream
Search for the trickster, and watch where he goes

I’m hiding my emotions,
I stare into the blank road,
Watch the people pass,
Winter winds blow
The shoes on my feet,
Wet with snow
Why I cannot have a peaceful dream
I am tainted with you,
I can only write about you,
It’s always been there,
But you ruined me,
****** me up,
I ****** up you too.
I miss you,
Its still only you
The stars I see, you see too

Why are my dreams haunted with the past?
Why can I not just live and let live,
Do I love misery?
Do I love being a pawn in this depression game?
Even though, I hold all the cards,
Do I not want to let the past die?
Wake up with the last I remember when?
You seem to be some kind of disease,
That flourishes when I try to be some kind of writer
Art never came from happiness, isn’t that what they say?
Do I love reflecting on the past?
Do I not want to let you go?
I don’t,
Missing something you let go makes you crumble,

The nights are few and scattered
The memories last forever
I cant seem to want to stop
Listening to your tune
Replaying it,
Over and over
Thinking if I wish it will be different
Something could from silence
But I know that’s just wishing on a lucky pair of snake eyes
I don’t gamble,
But I just cannot seem to let the object of my affection
Reach anywhere but you