The truest of all the colors seems to be the blues,
so shall I lie and refuse to speak of the sky,

Karma calling on behalf of Klarna,
chuckle because time can't go back, but it can smile,

Pay stubs from nineteen ninety-you-and-me,
money in the currency of the soul,

Percussion, playing concussion by
long drawl and forgotten words,

Tigers pretending to draw,
tigers, pretending to draw,

lasers pointed at the sky,
and no one is impressed and no one is coming,

A head bob with the life that is dying.
jam out. Fade out.

howling, and it's all black outside, except, of course, the street lights,

a box to be untouched, because you can't hear or see what's in here,

I'll give everything to make you leave with nothing,

I am secondary to the love of my life,

we'll watch eclipses under romantic ellipses,

Welled up tears won't pour, and ambient noise won't be the score,

It'll be a silent painting, hung by ones that scream and

hung will it be in the finality of satisfied artistry

Bet and lose it all

It's all the same night, except for the background of getting worse,
I don't need to be understood,
but I don't want to end up in a hearse,
keep the period away, grant me further ellipses,
allow me to dream of her eyes, and how her lips kiss,

I've set the bar low, is what they say,
and allowed myself to **** off the feeling of dismay,
cannot see that I am burned while loving the sun's hottest rays,
sun bathing in an urn, keeping peace rather than being betrayed,
burnt to a crisp being the secret to bewray,

Midnight is the moon, and classic reverie,
a wishing and wanting like a fountain,
washing in my ears like an ocean I need not fear,
but it's quiet, when your company is only dead things,
grasping for life until you remember its sting,

Ultimately alchemical, and unfinished,
varnished by an unseeming finish,
fingers snapping at the air with no supernal intervention,
no cosmic charade or visual parade,
it just, ironically, ends.

Eyes closed,
bam,
It's like October,
a festival of candy

Witches and the hunt for red skies,
the fullest of moons,
gobbling up the goblins prancing by,
oh, as sweet as kissing on a swing

That hat, wide as the world,
feeding our fat porch cat,
we were graced from the depths of lack,
and now smiling seems to be our knack

the trick was the treat, and now there's no going back.

Getting close is the best I've done,
and even then, it was still a distant run,

through the showers and floor being undone,
in the midst of shadows and a mist that spoke of fun,

they all say there's nothing there,
nothing to hold on to,
for that I am sorry,
but my apology is about being me,

the mean of hope and a fate disagreeing,
with instruments strumming,
for a thing unclear to be,
what's staring back at both of us,
I'll just smile,

for what is left, just further into this mess,
the same to drink,
and a wish from the same genie,

hoping for more coping,
not believing in the dystopian,
while living it in a chorus of chords now broken,

making music out of the screech,
twiddling fingers as if I'm playing,
but I'm laying dead on the stage,

and, at this point, it's worth it,
even underneath not a single petal,
to be seen.

The last one
keeps being the hardest,
like if somehow this night
were the darkest

but I'm smiling,
I'm singing,
aren't we happy

I guess, it's just a mess,
and I must be wrong,
could you really let go

because I really couldn't
not for a lifetime and the next
and now
when I think, I dream

it's all just you and me.

It's a feeling,
that ends underneath the eyes,
and I couldn't tell you its beginning,
but ultimately it's called crying

kind of like skin that's torn,
maybe what you imagine,
if you picture a wooden shack,
pillaged, strewn about,
now make it beloved,
it's grandma's, or love
however you shape it

the teardrops seem to have only one way,
but don't dismiss them
they are varied

some come buried,
others help you drown,
some accompanied by a sound,
some fill the town, and others follow
only a silent frown

but you can smile too, when those dastardly things
are coming down.