O Matsushima!
O Matsushima!
O Matsushima!

I had to get drunk, and read sad poetry
just to cry over you.
We both know that
This is the way it has to be

I'm only sad when I see the moon
because I know
you're enjoying the sun

Her eyes were smolder,
Black thick charcoal,
Coating her fire burning
A thousand days of sun.
It seems a wonder
Her skin was milk,
Not tanned hide
From the scorch
She held.

Always a lover
But never in love.
The idea she longed for,
But to have - ended longing
Therefore she never took.
In dreams with pining
Was her fun.
The very tongue of lust,
She was the taste,
The desired delicacy.

Stolen away
Were the many hearts
Of men from youth to elder.
She held them in
Her swollen grin
As if to say
I own you.
The affairs were best,
No better test
Than to abrade the strings of love.
And when she won,
(She always won)
She claimed sweet scandal,
*I own you

We're all lions here
And we're comparing the size of our teeth as if it's the teeth
and not the bite
That's the most deadly.
We're all swallowed by our pride here.
Apologizing left and right to make ourselves feel better about mistakes that aren't ours
We don't own them.
The moment the "I'm sorry" escapes from my lips it takes with it a
Solid and measurable piece of my soul.
I am waiting.
A lion in a pride of my own bounding on two feet
Looking down at your barred teeth grinning.
Because I will not be owned
Or enslaved
Because adolescence is a stage and I am not an actress in this play.
When the king of the jungle gives up his power where does it go?
Not to the juvenile. Not to the child.
To the one who hunts for it. Who grins while others growl and feasts while others sleep.
I will take it.
And you will whimper before me.

I'll be the first to give you what nobody gave me
I do my damndest to love you, but only one love can save me
and the same is true of you
I want to look like that
I'll be the first to run as hard as I can even after the fact
II'll let you walk on me even if it means I cannot breathe
I'm loving you better than I can even love me
And i fear that that will have to change
No I'm not selfless, at least not too long
because soon i look up from down and i'm too far gone
I've been told i can't live like this, Can't love like this
that it would run anybody into the ground
You've told me that the only way i could even begin to love you
is to have silence right now
so i swallow my heart, choke it back down to my chest
I will be silent, you will have your rest
I will not make a sound
but i will not bow,
to foolish ideas that i never loved you then,
and that i do not love you now

I've believed I gotta give up  my soul to gain it
I am as broken or more than the faces i've painted
Can't pretend any longer
that self hate is sacred
I would have swallowed the truth sooner if i liked how it tasted
so i am noticing here that there has to be a balance
the truth must lie somewhere in the middle and i will have it
if i have got to pull out all my teeth
I will rip my tongue out
if that is what it tastes like
to gain the privilege of speech

She came in, guns loaded, with bullets of red lipstick
Cigarette smoke rings like vows
Her heels were high but her head was held higher
As everyone else bowed.
Her nails were polished, she was too
Her teeth were pearly and white
Her legs were long and her arms were strong
And her hands were clenched in fists, tight.
She stomped on crowds of angry men
That told her girls ain't tough
Her high heels pierced the skin beneath her feet
As she told 'em enough was enough
She came in, guns blazing, with bullets of red lipstick
While them boys had shields and swords
The world put her down for her feminine body
So she took her just rewards.

Two black buttons, eagerly
looking up at the biscuit tin.
Wool pulled over the still frame,
a smudge of leather at the tip.
(Is he going to just stand there?)

Over thirty miners in white suits,
hammering away at fleshy caverns.
They remain silent as they toil,
it’s the cavern that does the singing.
(What did he do to my favourite stick?)

Solid ink encased in damp cloth,
imprinting mud upon the marble.
A carrier of the rain, a little black
wind that decorates with dirt.
(Would it help if I rolled over?)

An actor at heart, her feigning of
innocence deserving of an award.
She looks up, head at an angle,
a face full of sympathetic mysteries.
(Silly pet, still doesn’t know how to fetch)