Cupid is my homie
He likes to keep me high
Filling me with arrows
Every day
And every night
You might just call me foolish
Im inclined to think the same
But i saw her at a bus stop
I dont even know her name
We locked eyes for a moment
And her smile seemed to say
Ill love you til tomorrow
And then ill fade away

Ashland is a small town
on a small planet, in an
ever expanding universe.
The people here are bitter
and so is their spit, from
full-flavored cigarettes
and diluted kisses spun
from the lips of significant
others, that didn't listen to their
mothers, and married because of
irresponsible reasons, like personality,
respect, love, and other, 'Jesus, **** me
the **** now, so help me.'

Abstract thought is dangerous--
to the mind it's cancerous.
Alone and thinking about
melancholy shaped memories or
kisses that would echo through
your lungs, stomach, ******* soul.
Don't do it. Don't you invite the devil,
killing yourself is so concrete, it must
mean more than a concrete floor,
hovering above a rumored hell and a
definite uncertainty so delicate that it
eats into you with its sensitive meandering
disguised as beauty but, really, a violent,
violent, murderous host, hoax, fake but
eating your superficiality, programmed by
someone else, telling you it's you.

Ashland is a small town,
aren't we all a small town, inwardly.

oh, how i wanted
to fill the void
between us
with your hair
and skin
and smell
and warmth
how badly i wished
the cold would leave
for good this time

I know it may seem odd
But sometimes
I can be in a crowd
And still feel alone

you hear the crash
shattered glass
shards fall like tears
and scatter like ashes
sharp angles glitter
glitter and shine

don't touch
don't help
don't salvage
don't hold

do not touch the glass
you'll smudge the reflection
leave prints
don't leave prints
when you let go they'll be left behind
burning deep into the fibers
like hands holding embers
like scars of war
cuts will leave scars
so

don't touch
don't help
don't salvage
don't hold

the broken glass leaves stains on your hands
on your clothes
on your mind
on your heart
blood pumping
blood pouring out
blood run cold
more than a fracture
jagged edges that will never fit the same

so *don't touch me*.

Again, you came, and love is what you seek
I seek
Again, you left, and love is what you stole
I need...

Our love was Faustian
And I was your Lucifer
I gave you my world
But you struck me down
And cast me out!
Was my light not bright enough?
Was my flame not hot enough?
To illuminate and thaw your black and frozen heart?

I believed in you

My shining star, you fade so violently
My world has descended to grey
My future has disintegrated
All because I believed in you...

you aren't special
every year around this time he chooses a toy
you aren't special
he's a man with the mentality of a little boy
you aren't special
he WILL lose interest in you
you aren't special
i know all your secrets too ;-)
you aren't special
you're the side chick, I'M the WIFE
you aren't special
he may be with you a few days, a few nights
he's with me for the REST of his LIFE

Each day she posed naked
As he continued to paint
Engrossed in the picture
She was twenty to his fifty
But his age never upset her
In truth, she was falling for him

He never attempted to ****** her
As if he ignored her body
Maybe she was not beautiful enough
She knew he lived all alone
He never shared his home
If he asked, she would be his

She tried to show temptation
Wanting him to notice her
No matter how much she showed
The curves of her body
He would just keep painting
As if he never noticed her there

On the last day she could take no more
"Am I not beautiful in your eyes
Can you tell I desire you
I would do anything you ask
If it be only for one night
I am yours if you want me"

"You are young and beautiful
Your beauty will be seen forever
In this painting, In your honour
But I loved so very long ago
I lost her to Mistress Death
My heart belongs to her, always"