My darling dearest fled;
Are the cliffs forever cold?
There's so much inside your head.
Do you dream of days of old?
You left so much in your wake,
In your trip to the sea.
Remember to wish that it was fake,
And hope to forget me.
The ocean will treat you well,
As well as you treated the stars.
May you dance in the craters where you dwell
As you did when the moon was ours.
Do not mourn!
We are not dead.
We do not remember you with scorn!
I respect where you've made your bed,
And wish you love forever more.

The sentence looks like someone who's sibling I used to be,
smells like sand and Pepto Bismol.
and is wet and warm and sticky.
As it sounds like a gun shot in an apartment in Virginia,
The sentence whispers to me a time of death.

The old woman ran a leathery hand through her cropped hair.
"Yes, you may weep for the fields of green, as they were gorgeous yet thought to be boring."
She rocked back and forth and her wrinkled face contorted into a smile for the first time in the conversation.
"You may always cry for the tulip fields as they were devastatingly beautiful yet loathed."
And yet, as soon as her face had lit up like a thousand suns, it was once again devoid of expression.
"But, nonetheless, reserve your pity for those that loved he or she that burned out,
for every lover of Icarus knows that it is better to be hated than to go unnoticed."

Eric thought the other boy was beautiful, so he took pictures.
He took his smirk
He took the cliche sparkle from his eyes
He took everything
Until his beautiful boy was gone
And all he had were photos of nothing

I met a girl with X-ray vision.
She found herself quite smart.
Yet despite
Her fantastic sight
She couldn't find my heart.

There was an *****
that pumped blood
But surely there was something more.
So she climbed
Into my mind
And opened up a door.

There she found
Things somewhat profound,
But they were not of any interest,
So she rose
And found the words I spoke
In the chasms of my lungs.

She saw debate and
The arguments I fought
She saw what I cared about
But it was still not what she sought

Then she leapt into my hands
And saw all that I wrote
She tried to find double meaning
To the carefully chosen words
But there was no leaning
Or things of note.

So she gave up
But began to fall
For when asked what I cared about
My girl with "X-ray vision"
Knew that she didn't know me at all

She
Lazily
Traced her fingers along my arm
Occasionally circling freckles
For emphasis
However,
Her eyes were closed.
There was no method,
No melody to a song she was writing
Along my arm
I almost wished she were something like mine
For she traces a blanket of stars
when she's asleep
I almost wish she were
Here
For a blanket of stars to be mine to keep

Hello everybody. My name is Neal and I'm your tour guide.
The first creature that we will see is a koala, to your right. Do you know that koala's have fingerprints very similar to those of humans?
So much so that their prints have been mistaken for a human's at crime scenes?
Anyways, this leads us to ask some very important questions: are methods of finding criminals therefore unreliable? Is it truly possible to avoid imprisoning those that are innocent? Is reality merely an allusion?
Or, more importantly, was it my boyfriend John with the good fashion sense that took my hairbrush? Or was it that little ***** Bernard that is hiding in the top left corner?
Anyways, to your left you'll see our world renowned snail tank. Snails can sleep for up to three years at a time....