The great thing
is not having
a mind. Feelings:
oh, I have those; they
govern me. I have
a lord in heaven
called the sun, and open
for him, showing him
the fire of my own heart, fire
like his presence.
What could such glory be
if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters,
were you like me once, long ago,
before you were human? Did you
permit yourselves
to open once, who would never
open again? Because in truth
I am speaking now
the way you do. I speak
because I am shattered.

Sometimes I tap my cigarette in time to the syllables of the numbers nine through twelve.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone knows what the hell I'm talking about.
So I walk around outside to try to understand my mind
just to get lost on a journey and leave it all behind.
If you could join me, I'd show you all of the lights.
The ones with deep meaning that make everything all right.
But it's times like these that I'd rather be by myself:
Nine, Ten, E-lev-en, Twelve.

As a kid I always lived inside of my head.
Backyard battles with demons were always so vivid.
One time I stuck a bunch of duck feathers into the back of my shirt.
I ran around the pool jumping -
just trying to leave Earth.

As I grew up, I maintained my thirst for adventure.
Fell in love with facing fears -
succumbed to a lust for danger.
Always trying to disprove my doubts.
Nine, Ten, E-lev-en, Twelve.

Fell into doing drugs and developed a taste.
Having fun with a new crowd.
Learned to deal with disgrace,
but sometimes I'd catch my reflection in a mirror
and couldn't recognize my own face.

But all the while coming closer to achieving my dreams.
Knowing one day I'd fly away on my wings.
Came to find out the true nature of the place that I dwell.
An angel can't fly when he's trapped down in hell.

Nine, Ten, E-lev-en, Twelve.

feeling like an endless and gruesome winter,

you eventually left me;

leaving a gaping hole of nothingness
in what i used to call my heart.

i remember you telling me
that i was like a flower;

you pulled me from my roots and placed me in a vase of water,

keeping me safe and alive.

but flowers eventually die

when the careless and unthoughtful rip them from their thoughts.

because there are other things to worry about;

because there are many more flowers to be picked.

There was once a girl
and her whispers were like sunshine
peeking through thick leaves
and her hair flowed down like water
rushing with the breeze
and she stood on your stoop
and she said she loved you
but you didn't hear

there was once a boy
and his smile warmed like sweet bread
steaming for the taste
and his words were rich like dark chocolate
twisting your toungue with pleasure
and he stood on his stoop
and he broke a heart
but she didn't hear

there was once a mother
and her ears were like the trees
always waiting to hear the tiniest rustling of leaves
and her hands were like stone
lined by honest strength, bearing no weakness
and she held this smallest hand
and said nothing's permanent
and that heart break can heal or twist
and silence sweet whispers
and slice long hair
but it was all up to the girl

there was once a brother
and his slaps hurt like ice
on soft baby skin
and his lessons burned
like scars from fires long past
and he taught the boy well
how to not feel it hurt anymore
and he brought the boy home
where mama wasn't there
and daddy didn't care
and the boy never learned

not like the girl
who grew up like the tree
proud, and wise, and strong
and whose cares washed away like spring rain
and whose lessons stuck like thick sap

not like the boy
who grew up like a rock in a river
shrinking with every second
letting it all cut him down
and who couldn't handle it all
and who wore away from the world
much faster than the tree...