The road behind bares us a backdrop, too many nights find us fractured in our thoughts and the dreamers we once were are far from the two people who stand today.

We're broken, mere splinters of our shipwreck past, driftwood on a shore that drowns every time the ocean breathes.
The path is littered with slaughtered dreams that didn't bleed.

As time and tide wait for no man shall we find it a tragic scene?
simply erased with the sunsets demise?
No one gets away without a scar and mine speak a road map to chaos
and a found hello to you.

Mine own scars are fingertips
gouged into the sand and faded
but salted by tears of the ocean, inerasable by the tide.
A soul washed up upon the shore, a road map etched delicately into fine bones.
You can trace where I'd been before. All roads lead to your hello.

In broken lines and have uttered phrases and one too many empty night.
Backdrop of chaos does paint in the darkest colors you could ever imagine .

How does it gets so flawed by our own creations and vices my dear?
Does it still ring ever so true?

The bell rings true whispering distant voices
Empty nights are just bottles lined up as dead soldiers
We contemplated our own truths and fell victim to our own vices
The backdrop is black, no colour beneath skin.
Honestly? Where does our downfall begin?

Two ships underneath the nightscape past the spark once understood the flame and nothing more .
In empty alleys, like cats to prowl, we find our moments, and then bury our thoughts to lay for no others to see.

half written papers and half heard conversation the keys of the piano haunt the silence as myself shadows that still remain.

Nothing is but a thought and those are like dead flowers laid to waste a reflection of far better times

The night crawls to meet the day as it has so many times before.

The thought of the minds bottle lay empty upon the table.
A fond farewell is but a sugar coated goodbye.
And I seldom have minced my words to mask their sting.

The page forever bleeds.

Pages that lay scattered on a ***** floor
Bleeding ink into cracks
that will forever more
hide the spirit of our souls.

heartbeat creaks in, out, ladder creaking too--
can you feel it, can you hear the petty voices screaming at you,
can you. can you, can you.
crying out, this is what the water gave back to you:
you never liked her anyway, not the way she got into trouble,
regret doesn’t make someone more dead, anyway,
what’s the rush?
riverbed running dry, what’s the rush?
says, you have nothing to worry about
says, god told me about the paintings, god told me,
says, this is your fault
untucked button-up shirts falling from a fifth floor balcony,
this is what love is supposed to feel like
promising bitten pieces of paper to strangers and other misdemeanors
eating at the cardboard cutout suicide dream
some kind of oasis, or
at least a buried treasure, right?
that’s what we came here for, right?
says, don’t make assumptions,
says, don’t make this harder than it has to be,
says, don’t--
corpse in the river, blonde hair
blue eyes get seven sentences and a memorial
speaking in sentences only churches get to hear
lighting a cigarette and talking about the end of the world
isn’t this what we came here for?
says, *what a way to die

it is easy to know when you should worry about him:::
bombs are going off in lonely palms
and all you hear is a clock ticking in the kitchen

When I am all alone
Envy me most,
Then my thoughts flutter round me
In a glimmering host;

Some dressed in silver,
Some dressed in white,
Each like a taper
Blossoming light;

Most of them merry,
Some of them grave,
Each of them lithe
As willows that wave;

Some bearing violets,
Some bearing bay,
One with a burning rose
Hidden away —

When I am all alone
Envy me then,
For I have better friends
Than women and men.

some drift of fog from her lips
when quivered expired on the face of the ground
fallen
after the loss of the vision

I have nothing to offer you,
I’m just a pyromaniac,
An empty girl,
Trying to find my way back,
After I burned my hands
On the matches I light in the bathroom,
Before I drop them in the sink,
Letting the water discourage the flames.
(Only the burns remain.)