Tonight
the sky is electric blue
and powdered ombre
with the stars shining through

And every night
I watch the sky's changing hue
and I peer into myriad
and wonder if you see it too

''Pourquoi êtes-vous triste?''
''Parce que vous me parlez en mots, et je vous regarde avec des sentiments...''

Tonight I watched the sky for longer than I'd ever done before
The white afternoon deepened to crystal and
I saw each star gently fade into view
until darkness covered me
like the clouds covered the waxing, weeping moon
and astral tears melted from its craters
and on nights like this I usually
think of Van Gogh
or McNeill Whistler's
Nocturne in black and Gold
but tonight I thought of
how there are more stars in the sky
than
drops of water on Earth
sorry

I'm in a crestfallen sea
there's no way out

                                it's all
                                      dark
                ­                          water

Hereby, the night is my Valentine
and what I lack in love song
I hear in the harsh wind's lullaby.
I see the moon letch out the ivory tusk of night
and the ashen clouds will cradle the stars
and lay upon the words I write.
Then the welkin whisked the blackened embers
thus the moon became my spirit guide
creating spring from bleak December's
my night proposal, then my morning bride

Listen close
and don't be ******
I'll be here in the morning
'cause I'm just floating
Your cigarette still burns
your messed up world will thrill me
Alison
I'm lost

Alison I said we're sinking
there's nothing here but that's okay
outside your room your sister's spinning
but she laughs
and tells me she's just fine
I guess she's out there somewhere

And the sailors they strike poses
on TV coloured walls
and so slowly
With your talking and your pills
your messed up life still thrills me
Alison
I'm lost

Alison I'll drink your wine
I'll wear your clothes when we're both high
Alison I said we're sinking
but you laugh
and tells me it's just fine

I guess she's out there somewhere

I'm looking for a way to tell you that
you're the nicest abundance of chaos
I have ever known
and to write it is nice because
even if we still get some years left
you'll still read this
and know

She is a thick acrylic
she'll latch on to your canvas
she is the vibrant red of your beating heart
the rainstorm blue in your eyes
she will never fade away
there are millions of layers to her
that you can never strip

I am a washed out watercolour
a faint sweep of the spectrum
a drab and fleeting glance
dilute me
and it's like I was never there
the part of your pallet
that you will forget come morning

Trying not to romanticize life
is hard
when everything is going so beautifully

Such that the morbid and intrusive thoughts
once buried at the back of my mind
then hanging on the tip of my tongue
prying open my lips
have been swallowed down into the burning pit of my stomach
Perhaps, never to return again

'Good times for a change
see, the luck I've had
can make a good man
turn bad

So please, please, please
let me, let me, let me
let me get what I want
this time


Haven't had a dream in a long time
see, the life I've had
can make a good man bad


So for once in my life
let me get what I want
Lord knows, it would be the first time'

If we were on a black and white camera roll
I could whisper
au revoir mon amour
and leave my heart swollen by your side
as the screen fades away

But unfortunately I must see you again next year
and watch as your eyes always say
Je ne t'ai jamais aimé
and my eternal screen will never fade away

There is a map in my room on the wall of my room and I’ve got big, big plans.
and I can see them slipping through almost feel them slipping through the palms of my sweaty hands.
and I move slow, just slow enough to make you uncomfortable.

you say ''I hate you'', you mean it and ''I love you'' sounds fake
it's taken me so long to figure that out.
I used to love the taste I would do anything for it.
now I would do anything to get the taste out of my mouth.
and you're so confident but I hear you crying in your sleeping bag.

but you were broken bad yourself
you were mad as hell you felt
if you had done anything with anyone else it would have worked out so well.

But you are an artist and your mind don’t work the way you want it to.
one day you’ll be washing yourself with hand soap in a public bathroom.
and you’ll be thinking ''how did I get here?''
''where the hell am I?''
if the roles were reversed you could have seen me sneaking up, sneaking up from behind.

She sees these visions, she feels emotion.
she says that I cannot go she sees my plane in the ocean.
and what about your friends? don’t you love them enough to stay?
and I say if I don’t leave now then I will never get away.
let me be a blue raft on a blue sea I’ll blend right in.

Why do you fill my sorrow
with the words you've borrowed
from the only place you've known?
And why do you sing Hallelujah
if it means nothing to you?

Why do you sing with me at all?

I love you a lot
and you love your guitar
and winter hats
and films with complicated plots
but then again
I love French music
and old photographs
and flowers with complicated names
so maybe you love me too