Perfection is unattainable
Well, I’m a perfect fool
Comparison is the thief of joy
Lessons I wish I had learned in school

Pretty sure I’ll miss you for the rest of time
Along country roads and abandoned homes
is where you’ll live inside of my mind

Godless yet sacred,
nothing felt sweeter than Sunday’s by your side
I’m still sticking my thumb out in my dreams,
praying for one last ride

I am a lost boy
in the guise of a dreamer,
a little girl
in the guise of a woman.

I dwell between
worlds of fantasy
and my own neurosis.

I sleep between the lines
of my favorite wordsmiths.

I indulge in my vices
and surrender to my heart.

I walk through fire,
and run towards smoke.

I give love
like a match to a flame,
and leave piles of ashes
at my own two feet.

Green eyed devil walked into a bar,
on a southern summer's day.
He had a poker face
and a pisces heart,
singed wings and a look of disarray.

We played hide and seek,
until there was nowhere to hide.
I was a fish caught on a hook,
and the hook was a bass line.

Just one dose
of his cyanide lips,
and I begged him
to deliver me to evil
with his electric hips.

I said, 'Possess my body.
Baby, gyrate my soul.'
He tasted like whiskey and poetry,
he felt like rock and roll.
We made the night ours,
and the night killed the day.
We were two colliding storms,
dancing in the rain.

Oh forgive me father
for I have sinned,
but dear lord, did you see that grin?
It's funny how hell can seem just like heaven.

Being with you was like dancing in a monsoon on a sweltering Carolina summer's day. It was floating on your back in the ocean with your eyes closed. It was the buzz of babbling bumblebees in a rose garden. It was moonlight breaking through my curtains at 3am when I can’t sleep.

I pray that one day my body
will have forgotten your touch.
Along with the jarring hum
of a foreign object, searching
for a home in a locked building.

You were forged in fire long before
their warm breath ever caressed your neck,
and you will continue to engulf the world in flames
long after they have tried to extinguish your light.

My father would often say,
‘The only thing ever guaranteed is change.’

I never liked it.

When the seasons transform around you,
and the world turns, for the better or for the end, you find
being a caterpillar was the prime — filled with its humble
and wholesome beginnings.

Being a butterfly is a tough act,
you’re in constant fear of the peril of your wings wilting.