The night fills the day,
With endless sorrow,
Where the lost can't stay,
And none to follow,

There's kids on corners,
Selling their small pills,
Roaming like mourners,
Searching for some thrills,

Boys with raw knuckles,
Girls with bruised faces,
Tied down with buckles,
In hidden places,

  Everywhere you go,
  Darkness will follow,
This is not a place,
But a state of mind,
With no signs to trace,
And no light to find.

Tasting the malice
Of true love's poison
In a gold chalice
On life's horizon
Fear of memories
Of cold, dead pictures
Stood in cemetries
As stone fixtures
True love will provide
Its own antidote
And cure the inside
Of this lonely boat
That sails empty seas
Of poor lover's pleas

And so the boy wept,
Not due to the fact that she would never be his,
Not because his love would never kept,
But because he would never be what she wanted,

He could learn to stop crying and forget,
But her eyes will forever be a painted image in his mind,
And nothing would be remembered through regret,
For he had given everything to her and left nothing for himself

I'm afraid I lost your affection in last night's sheets,
Along with your blunt words of love,
That were drowned in beer bottles,
And stuffed into ripped-off clothes.

---

Now, this may be the death of us,
And with scythes He will take you away,
And to put this quite bluntly, Darling,
He won't comfort your petty mourning.

We deem ourselves broken,
And unworthy of each other,
But when we draw close,
Our fragments and shards align,
And we become whole again

Caged I crawl,
Within the filth of society,
Labelled a freak by those who call others blind,
But how does that give them vision?

If you see me as different,
Then obviously I'm a threat,
So you must contain me and chain me,
You call me weak, yet you think you're strong?

But over time,
You cage too many of us,
We are the new society,
With labels we wrote ourselves,
And this inevitable insanity,
Will now only be endured by you,

Because you're normal,
And we're blind,

But we can see you,
And we'll cage you.

You phone me at quarter-to-eleven,
Telling me that you belong in heaven,
But you are only intoxicated,
And now that I've been inocculated,
With this long, never-ending depression,
I know how to accept your confession.

But don't you try to find reasons to go,
Because I will instinctively follow,
So let me collect your tears in my palm,
And soothe your forehead 'til you're coldly calm,
So that you forget about ****** blades,
And let this frightening fear slowly fade.

My body is a sailing ship;
It braves the rise and falls of waves,
Tossed and tumbled in every tempest,
Its lungs ripped and torn by the fickle wind,
Its ribbed belly bloated with the treasures of life,
The spines erected from its back kiss the clouds,
And the *** bleeds through its tar skin.

---

The seven seas that it sails,
And these storms and torrents that change its course,
Embody its existance,
Cucooned in the harsh reality of living.

A brick house on a cold, dusty lane,
Full of kids drinking to cover their pain,
A sea of crumpled cans drown the wooden floors,
And a cloud of green gas eclipses the orange lamp beside the door,

And she walks over, with her hair tied back,
Her full, rouged lips arched and ready to attack,
But his drunken haze blurs his common sense,
And he lets her pull him outside to the neighbour's fence,

They walk along the lane with muddy socks,
Avoiding the tearful stones and rocks,
Then they stumble blindly into a bush,
Her hands on his belt, not knowing he doesn't want to rush,

She tears off his jeans and kisses him - missing his lips,
He pulls her close and holds her hips,
Not knowing that she only wants his body,
Or that in the morning his childish morals would be beaten ******,

Because what he thought was trust,
Ended up just being a night of drunken lust

I'm chained to this wall,
A belt round my neck,
Tongue tied, cannot call,
My heart's a ship wreck,

Sunken to the soul,
Where no light enters,
Just like this hell hole,
Where insanity centres,

Encaging patients,
Deemed untreatable,
Losing their patience,
With nurses incapable,

Of treating our minds,
The pain in our veins,
Or pain they can't find,
"Hopeless" they claim,

But in this darkness,
Fear is controlling,
Just like the madness,
Existing in the nursing,

And pain turns to death,
As rain turns to tears,
While they take their last breath,
For screams that last years

I never knew what love truly meant,
Until I met you,
You with your deep brown eyes,
Yet you were forever to be distant from me,

I never knew I'd be plated with resent,
Until I met you,
You with someone else - that made me cry,
But, I suppose, everyone's better than
me,

I never knew what love truly meant,
I was only told not to love someone like you,
You, who will never love me,
And I will always be second best

Lies and lies,
A distorted diguise,
From the flimsy facade would rise,
A rag doll corpse infested with flies,

Now, I slice a chelsea smile from ear to ear,
So that you could see, rather than hear,
The broken boy trembling with fear,
Yet you spit on him and stay way clear,

Now you know what I became,
A disfigured monster all the same,
Yet you didn't **** - only maim,
So I'd come back crawling as a part of your game.

Two kids on a concrete step,
Soft hopefulness upon rock hard failure,
A balance of love and hatred between them,
As well as a forbidden longingness for each other,

Yet, the girl in grey belongs to another,
And the boy in white belongs to no other,
For in time his heart will harden like stone,
And become a concrete step for another pair to sit,
That will perhaps fall in love,
Unlike those before them

May paper be your canvas,
And a pen your tool,
But not your tender skin,
And a ****** blade

Seconds become hours with her,
Moments treasured in the safety of memory,
Her presense seeds a sense of security,
And her very touch entwines a bond of emotion,

Like soft autumn, her hair falls like willow branches,
Which lay in the pending snowy blanket of her skin,
A lunar cycle may pass,
But a viewer would have only taken in a small amount of her beauty,

Unlike myself, who sees her for who she really is:
Past the eternal and ageless beauty,
Is a hollow cavern of emptiness,
Carved out by the chizzels of heart-breakers and love-leavers,

What she does not realise though,
Is that her brokeness can be mended,
And her hollow heart filled with nourishing love,
By my tender and patient presense,

For what is a plant without soil for stability?
Let her root her pain in my skin,
So she may blossom for the coming spring,
And walk with me into the following summer

Rooftop nights,
Sitting...staring at sights,

Spinning vinyl's,
Long love tunnels,

Heading down south,
Past your red mouth,

Mechanical lust at full throttle,
Knocking over cider bottles,

You are my drug.
Fill me up.

With the sun long behind us,
We lay with our bodies entwined,
Captivated by our previous intimacy,
And you do not need to hear me say,
Three simple words,
Or eight petty letters,
For my actions speak for me