I’m getting greys
at an alarming rate,
I already pulled at my hair.
“It’s normal” he says
I swear just to debate,
cause he doesn’t seem to care.

And I’m bleeding through
my scar tissued skin,
the layers only grew
still I find a way in.

I’m getting greys
at an alarming rate,
I’ll be down to the last strand.
Check or fold the plays,
the cards aren’t that great
I’ll be down the my last hand.

And I’m bleeding through
my thick nice sweater.
It’s a shame as it’s new
and we’re reaching the cold weather.
It will stain the soft fabric
I may just grab the bleach,
but I always made it a habit
to always keep it just out of reach.

I’m getting greys
at an alarming rate
pretty soon I’ll be bald.
On hot coals she stays,
though she shifts her weight
and watches her soles scald.

And I’m bleeding through
my clogged and blocked pores,
and the remaining few
are becoming septic sores.
I’ll shed another layer
of a non-protective bubble,
and my hair will continue to get greyer,
I think I’m now in some trouble.

The Hallowe’en decor
has been put away for another year.
Christmas lights line each house and door,
illuminating every single tear.
The day of the dead has passed
but next holiday is one more for me,
since I’ve got the ghost of Christmas last
following me eternally.

Because you can’t weather proof against memories,
and you can’t keep grief from seeping through the windows.
The cold is the coldest of enemies
and it freezes you each time the wind blows.

The wind’s slapping at my face
and there’s a chill biting at my bones,
and in every snowflake; a feeling laced
“in our own arms we die”; all alone.
My mother was the spring,
just like it; she couldn’t stay very long.
The breath of fresh air she would bring
until her own breath wasn’t very strong.

Because you can’t weather proof against memories,
and you can’t keep grief from seeping through the windows.
The cold is the coldest of enemies
and it freezes you each time the wind blows.

No you can’t weather proof against memories,
and you can’t keep regret out of a locked door.
It has been that way for centuries
and it’ll be that way for centuries more.

She bruises easily,
she says “I don’t know why.”
“I’m like the monarchy,
they just won’t let me die.”
She pinches at her skin,
“do you see what I mean?”
It’s almost paper thin,
transparent and clean.

She comes up from the dirt,
born just ready to die.
Tugs and tears at her shirt,
fixes the cloth like a tie.
Changing each mask
within each new realm
and yet she still asks,
“Who put Bella in the Wych Elm?”

Wishing for the end
since around ‘96,
calling the reaper a friend,
“there’s no problem he can’t fix.”
“I had it all but at what cost?
I see no familiar face.”
“Every person I know is lost,
in life’s dreadful marathon race.”

She comes up from the dirt,
born just ready to die.
Grits teeth against the hurt
and keeps her eyes on the sky.
Still she juggles her tasks
and she steers at the helm,
and yet she still asks
“Who put Bella in the Wych Elm?”

I’m lying beside my girl in bed
I brush my lips against her ear;
“Baby if the world was to end,
there’s nowhere I’d rather be then here.”
Safe and warm as if in a nest
bodies formed like puzzle pieces,
she’s got her head pressed to my chest
heart pounding and it increases.

In my arms; my world and my plans
when you have my heart in your hands.
Always like this, always together
with your kiss of bliss, you’ll be my air forever.

I’ve never been one to greet sunrise
I much prefer the still quiet of night,
but as long as I can look into your eyes
you’ll forever remain my favorite light.
Our laughter combines
and creates a symphony,
a perfect meshing of minds
and souls completed perfectly.

In my arms; all that I ever sought
when you own my words and every thought.
Always like this, always together
with your kiss of bliss, it can’t get better.

In my arms; my world and my plans
when you have my heart in your hands.
Always like this, always together
with your kiss of bliss, you’ll be my air forever.

Spilled pill pieces
like crushed up Reese’s
I found my thesis;
in an empty stomach.
I formed some habits,
they reproduced like rabbits
and if I couldn’t stab it
I’d try to make it plumbic.
Decide to destroy at any cost,
I can’t hide or play coy; I’m my final boss.

I’m so messed up that I used to enjoy the battle;
while I lost, I lost to myself so I’d win.
Lamb to slaughter but too much guilt for the cattle,
maybe a sort of pacification that we can begin.
No cheat codes for this game we play.
All we sow is the seeds for another day.

Blurry scenes
and forgotten dreams,
no ends to a means,
but it started quite simple.
It began with quiet sighs
and tired bagged eyes
my grin would rise
but it seems I lost my dimples.
I was stumbling and swaying yet so lost,
fumbling while playing; I’m my final boss.

I was so messed up that I used to enjoy the game;
while I lost, I lost to myself all the same.
There’s no contra code and no extra lives,
no easy mode, no new game plus to replay twice.
No cheat codes for this game we play.
I keep wishing I could pause, wishing I could just stay.

There’s no save spot in sight,
no shrine and no campfire.
My hands gripping on so tight
my mind and my eyes tire.
I wished to be the hero of time,
always scared that I’d become a Ganon.
It took some work but my Zelda’s mine
I hope that ending stays canon.
But life is something that can’t be cheated,
destiny can’t ever be defeated.

I wake with a kink in my neck,
in my eye; a dirt speck.
Calling for all hands on deck; but we’re sinking.
I wish to return to the caves,
before we were on these rough waves
don’t know how we’ll dig these graves;
but I’m thinking.

But if I was taken by the wind
atleast then I’d understand.
But when the lady of the sea grinned
I came crawling hand over hand.
But if I was taken by the breeze
then I’d give up the horizon and trees
the sand and the land with great ease.

The ship of lost souls starts it’s sail at dawn
watch how it moves along,
in the currents so strong; isn’t she sturdy?
It’s stern turns so incredibly tight
even on the roughest night
but when held to the light; her deck’s *****.

But if I was taken by the wind
atleast then I’d go willingly.
Along with those who have sinned
or just those who chose to be free.
But if I was taken by the breeze
then I’d give up the flowers and bees,
leave it all behind, pay no mind
and even say please.

We practice serenity
with each day that we receive.
No search for amenity
just live off of what we believe.
No shortness of want or need,
look how easily we breathe.

That’s where the old snake stopped me
from attempting to grab the fruit.
There was endless crop to see
there was infinite loot.
We’re living in paradise lost.
We’re living in paradise lost,
and I don’t ever want to be found.

No much more to gain,
we shower within the rain.
Maybe I could stop this train
maybe you could stop the pain.
We have no short of grain
we have no hate or bane.
Rocky Mountains or flat plain,
delusional but still sane.

That’s where the old snake stopped me,
and told me that I need not pick.
The fruit was freely dropping,
raining down so strong and quick.
We’re living in paradise lost,
with nothing bringing us down.
We’re living in paradise lost,
and I don’t ever want to be found.