In the dark,
Smoke pushed to it's farthest extent,
the limit of last resistance,

Coalesce to a final convalesce,
gather just to break again,

The footsteps no longer sound like friends,
the stairway seems like the backdrop to pain,

With no one around, and just the sad music of the brain,
perhaps a strange entity would figure you were praying,

A love letter to disengaging,
an answer to eternal berating.

In the dark, like a presence that is waiting,
as if presents were there hiding,
a warning letter to what you are finding,
hurtful songs beautiful as piano keys.

Precise as wanting. imprecise as finding,
pleasure in the clouds, and just waving,
to be found, and have been waiting,

In the dark, you found a way to the write the ending.

The most beautiful, here to eat my head,
the sweetest, to **** me from the inside,
eyes, lips, interstices, prompting my demise

Such sultry animates, constricting and twisting,
into revolting figureheads, sore splinters in the scenic
graveyard of serene, lush, hesitation

dying fruits of thriving vegetation,
feasting on me,
preying on me,
hands clasped, fingers crossed,
sweat within my palms,

What lies were told in our daily psalms,
we've been guided into their claws with promises of alms,
begging to kiss the predator's lips with such comely balms,

Curses couldn't make me shudder more,
than this being the truth,

I am a mouse, and beauty a betraying bruise.

A glistening droplet, a jewel like shape, belonging
to the queen of the cosmos overarching every universe,
listening, intently, even along joy and hurt,

her only delicate dance, supernally bloomed,
entirely unrehearsed, shedding tears during the worst,
filigree, and the ultimate chorus.

Starlike, starry-eyed, music,
fantastic, impetus, a muse to me,
used to be, music to me,

Stellar, almost completed,
for our sakes,
a comet by the lake,

oh...midnight,
you've always won the fight,
....such a beautiful sight.

Something from the fire,
something just to know,
if I'm a liar, lord take my throat,

There's something just about her,
and how she chooses to know,
and how she holds a fire without letting it go,

Dresses made of sunlight and proses of rose,
feelings like a won fight and dances of our nose,
To live is to meet her, to die is to let go,

and when I think about her, I swear I truly know,
how love becomes a fire and not just thoughts we hold,
and I'm impervious to liars because with her is where I go.

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.