Witchcraft and wine
it comes so naturally,
and now that you’re mine
I’m going to actually
try my best not to lose it.
If there’s a bomb then I will defuse it.
If there’s an offer I’ll just refuse it.
If there’s a card to play I’m going to use it.
Because you’ve got me under

Your blanket of stars and mysteries,
connecting our scars and histories.
In parked cars both sighing mystically
and back to the park where I was to shy to try anything.

Sorcery and scotch
you put me in a trance.
If you took it down a notch,
I just might stand a chance
that I’m not going to lose my head,
even with my cheeks burning red
getting brighter as you quietly said
“I’ll meet you tonight in our bed.”
Depriving me of slumber

With your healing touch and cosmic skin,
I’m within your clutch and freely giving in.
It’s too much and you have yet to begin,
removing my crutch and cleansing me of each sin.

I was warned of street magicians
and cautioned with tales of gateway drugs.
To not take my eyes off no matter the conditions,
because that’s when they tend to pull rugs.
“If you fall for one,
you’ll fall for them all.”
But this time I’m done,
I think it’s last call.

With your witchcraft and wine,
you make it look so divine.

Life’s just a riddle that none of us can answer
we’ve got some leads, we’ve got some clues.
Still the answer eats alive like a cancer,
and the treatment is something I’m like to refuse.

It was raining
as always in September.
They were complaining
about what; I don’t remember.
Reputation staining,
or maybe full dismember.
In need of some training
or my tempers need to be tempered.

It’s true you can never go back home,
being on your own doesn’t need to mean being alone.
You can gift the people silver, gold and chrome
and they’ll still ask you how to skin a bone.

Life’s just a puzzle that’s missing a piece;
you can try your hardest to fit in another,
or you can accept it and leave the picture incomplete,
and spend the rest of your time left to be frustrated and suffer.

It was a cold December,
some would say you could smell the ice.
I only seem to remember,
the nerve of those celebrating, bleedin’ Christ.
Start a fire but end up with embers
I think a spark or light would be nice.
So I go in search of vendors
but they’re charging far too high of a price.

The nightmare had a nightmare of its own
never learned to share even though it’s full grown.
You can gift people blankets and tapestries that you’ve sewn,
and they’ll still ask you how to skin a bone.

Life is like a flower
it blooms out until it drops.
Each day hour after hour,
until time’s ticking then stops.
For treasure I still scour
moving so fast my steps are hops,
and the floors filthy; needs a shower
but I think I’ve broken the brooms and mops.

It’s true you can never go back home,
the path is covered by weeds and stone,
and to each town and city you roam
there will be those who ask how to skin a bone.

One year down the road,
two years back behind.
Neither has a sign saying closed,
not that we would pay it any mind.
Indecision is killing us
choking so hard we can barely breathe.
I buried all of our trust
and then beg you not to grieve.

While it’s always been you I adore
I can’t decide if I love or hate myself more.
It eats me alive just like cancer
but I know and I show, us both
the real answer.

Try to illustrate your soul
but my pallet’s lacking the tones.
I tried to pay the tickets and toll
by trading sticks and stones.
A promise I should’ve kept,
but sometimes it’s just too hard,
and so I watched as you wept
just as predicted by the tarot card.

While it’s always been you I adore
it’s been the wrong side I’ve been fighting for.
I chose my tactics and my plays,
to get through that it’s true,
It’s still you
all time and always.

She says “don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby,
when you do that **** it makes me feel crazy.”
“You can’t even look me square in the face,
and you’ve always had an accent I just couldn’t place.”
She says “don’t call me kid, don’t call me love,
you took everything that I ever dreamt of
all of it is now poisoned laced,
or you tried to erase but it can’t be replaced.”

I could never put her on a shelf;
These aren’t feelings I’ve ever felt
just for anyone else.
I’m sure she knows **** well,
for her I’d crawl my body through hell.
All time and always.

I’m not thrilled of open water
I always liked my feet on dry land.
But the days are getting hotter,
I’ll have to deal with my toes in sand.

Dreams got me thinking of a sun
so hot it could toast my skin.
Stick a fork in me and call me done,
and let the feast begin.

Sometimes I think and sometimes I wish
that I had the courage to just jump ship,
and pray that the sirens
would guide me to the islands.
The water’s fine to take a dip,
do I have the courage to jump ship?
I’ll be searching for the sirens,
hoping I can still find them.

I get pulled in with currents of my emotion,
I gave up swimming as soon as it started.
Because who in this world can fight the ocean,
when it wants you to be departed?

Dreams got me thinking of palm trees,
leafs so big they create a world of shade.
Feeling of a nice summer breeze
cutting me up like a razor blade.

Sometimes I hope the fabric of reality will rip,
and that I gain the courage to just jump ship,
and pray that the sirens
would guide me to the islands.
Teeth are shaking just like my lip
do I have the courage to jump ship?
I’ll be searching for the sirens
hoping I can still find them.

I want to live amongst the waves shining
like gold paint,
but I’ll only ever find my silver lining
if I become an angel or a saint.
Yet I’ll hope that the sirens
can take my demons and blind them.

You wanted my words
you’ve wanted my thoughts,
and all that you’ve heard;
It’s my heart that you’ve got.
Love I’m right here
and I forever will be,
my lips will brush your ear
for all eternity.

I’ll bathe in your soul
and I’ll drown in your eyes
you will make me whole
and you will light my skies.
Love; I am blind
for you’re all I can see,
but I will never mind
for all eternity.

She speaks to me in poetry
in calligraphy and with cartography,
and bestows upon me these blessings;
endless dreams and epiphanies.
I correspond with you and you to me,
attached and complimenting eachother as a wave to the sea.
Upon our flesh two puzzle pieces as each completing,
Darling I could never resist, quickly defeating.

You keep each secret like a stone
before you put it into your pocket.
And I don’t ever want you to feel alone,
you’ve got me locked up like a locket.
Your luscious hair isn’t the only weight
that lies upon your soft shoulders.
And I just want to be in your future and current state,
so let me pick up and carry those boulders.

So please don’t you ever abandon me
like Lipton’s alligator soup and Altoids sour candy.

This didn’t happen overnight,
pushed all boundaries out of sight.
Don’t know their next step but it can’t be right.
Their grubby hands covering your eyes,
wicked tongues whispering blatant lies.
No confirmation for their alibis.

If a group of like minded people
can storm the Capital why not a steeple?
A sanctuary that’s built for predators.
For those who stormed Capitol Hill
why can’t they now go in for the ****?
Maybe too busy running from creditors.
I’m just so annoyed with the American void.

So many questions all over a vote;
they tried to mutiny like on a boat,
but now not asking why there’s no note.
With all those riots that were in the street,
willing to take a bullet or join the line to be beat,
no asking why someone special got an extra sheet.

If a group of like minded people
can defeat police then why not the bald eagle?
Just another symbol for freedom and justice’s joke.
For those who stormed Capitol Hill
does it not drive you crazy to now stay still?
Maybe too distracted by the war of Pepsi vs Coke.
I’m just so annoyed with the American Void.

If people can go missing why can’t files,
same with pedophiles and certain isles?
It’s funny how they gave away,
the ones we already knew what they’d say.
If people can go missing why can’t files,
same with pedophiles and their trials.
It’s funny how they gave away,
the records of JF & ML K.

Apparently there’s a minute missing every night
I guess we know when the time to strike is right.

They call them the Kings of Bones,
torching the  villages and the homes.
Saying they’re done with the ******* and moans
they’re expected to hear when upon their thrones.

So tell me is a battlefield even real
if it isn’t littered in blood, limbs and steel?
The bone kings only receive their end of the deal
if they offer up those who support them for the next meal.

So with scraped and ****** knees,
how are they to pray or please?
If our heads are always bent,
does worship even hold any sentiment?

So tell me is it really a done deal,
just like in guns, germs and steel?
The bone kings take what they want, act as they feel.
They tear all apart and neglect to place a seal.

They’re all too busy reading out of date scripture
that they’re all missing the blatantly clear picture;
Hell is empty as the devils walk the earth.
Everyone wants to rule the world,
trade gold for diamond and diamond for pearl;
doesn’t realize the reverse of worth.

Now they’re wearing collarbones around their neck,
and accessorizing every vertebrae as a ring.
Assuming this cruelty grants them respect,
really at best it’s just straight vulgarity.

But each King stands alone,
forever isolated and on their own.
So they polish a fresh bone
just to add to their skeletal throne.