Would you hide with me, unwind with me?
Would you sew my home for an hour or so?
Would you let me cook for you into the night unknown?

Would you listen to me, would you speak the words?
Would you fall back into the quiet, until, we can hear the obnoxious chirping birds?

Would you want my hand as I want your mind?
Would it matter if I asked you for just a little more time?

And your body, your spine, in its perfect align.
Is but a hopeful wish for distant tomorrow.
One that belongs to the keeper of heart in due time.

But then, in such situations as this, to ask...
Would my courage not fail me?
Would such moments now last?

Close
Far
Warm breath
Cold air burning beneath southern stars

Quiet
Noise
A comforting voice
In ears at last a presence being, my present

I’m going to plaster my words on the walls of life
Like paper
That way you cannot avoid me
Or the memory of mine

Just as a heart will not be cheap
Or doted upon everywhere
Or rolled out with ease

But plastered meticulously
That’s me

Like snow on the rails
Trampled leaves on the grounded trees
Fleeing light
Familiar scent well known
And the lasting stars you cannot always see
But are still there
The wait is having
My heart a quiet rustle in the summer breeze
Just go and live
Be it amongst noise or fog
As you hold not a single familiar scent or sound
Over me
You are winters cold
And your crackling quiet frustrates me
Just go
Please

Tear out my heart like a missing page. I turn and turn to live again.
Her will to read in nature's storm. Once born of being, is there and then.
When your eyesight was ever mine to upend? Or to try and mend.
You see? It never was once me.
That is until your rain begins again. Anew.

If the London air tasted anything like this
I'd pray for wings and spout quick as can be

And fly to another continent so fast
It would make your head spin

If only tea were in the air
As in flavor pallet here it is with me

It doesn't matter if I haven't. Because I've seen enough to cloud my eyes a thousand times over...

The open road is openly, the place for an open opportunity of mind...

Pictures placed at the heart of mankind, do not last. Not even the servers will satisfy or survive...

Every word I ever wrote about the ever loving trees was never for me...

Turn a new page, open up. Maybe today you will not stop and let the story die inside. But instead draw it out, into the pages where it ought to reside...

Love is such a shallow thing, its nothing like it presents itself to be...

Give me a structure that is not my own and I will not believe in it. Tell me my structure I cannot do and I will invest hours thinking about it. Excited for it...

The only truly haunted walls are those that are plain and bare of thought...

Tell me I will last
   Anyone will last
And I will greet you with a laugh
   Mortal and cold
Like the dawn of each new day
   Every minute growing old
All will wither
   All will die
All will fade
   Will not last
   Or outlast time
Truth be told
   Noone will survive the youngest youth
   Just as none will surpass the timeless old
This is the Morbid Truth
   I hold