Euphoria girls you must let go,
They remain as cold as snow. You have a system and everything's going to be okay. Cherry is the dream of pop stars as they listlessly decay. Please relax, please calm down, you always have a say. She won't just leave you, hanging around, she loves you through and through, she'll never just be a euphoria girl to you.

You stuck around, rose above from depths below but you are no hymn.
Vision blurs, shakes.
You are no god, yet ruler of us all. I write to you, i feel for you, i sing to you.
Worship is never far not even in silver scared dogs. It was not the wine making you shake, only pupils dilate and a silver and yellow face. Reverb on voice that echoes through the chaos of cloud kings and flames that died to make us, melting gradient, shimmering dusk. Don't tell me otherwise. Don't correct me if I'm wrong because no one knows even that much. A thought makes us believe and swear truth, and a doubt proves lies we once justified. Doubt the shimmering dusk, correct the melting gradient. Red pen isn't strong enough to hold me down. Silver and yellow face, goodnight.

The shadows lie,
They are not edgy, scary, or intimidating beings. Only a reflection of the pure light guiding us through notes that clash or bones on a heated field.
The shadows inspire, they themselves are craftsmen who create and we project our fears into them. Don't fear the unknown and hide, fear the unknown and love every plunging moment.

techno touch of tripping eyes,
flooded lungs filled flightless
feelings of birds above
and the bickering birds below.
Brushing bitterly breathing
heavily, heavenly hearts
and sighing in silky silhouettes.
Flowers folding fiddles,
defying gravity in great,
gruesome, detail. Eyes electric,
daffodils digging deep down.

Don't let me drown, by staying on the ground.
My shoes are torn, now that you're gone, i need you around.

My canvas shoes take a lot. I just walk till i find the right spot,
Me and you and me in the back, you asked are you done but I don't want that.
And there's this line you'd never cross, but now I'm here and just completely lost.

My feet ache after walks, now i scream in the night. These shoes need a sole like you. Keep me grounded in canvas through and through.  

Keep me grounded in canvas through and through.

A litter of potpourri petals scatted along my 10:00am floor. They lost their vibrancy and sense of worth almost as fast as i did.
Yet every now and then a new bud will bloom, crisp and curled edges followed by a  
bright and deeply coloured centre. This beauty surrounded by a dark dirt wouldn't be
complete without a tiny bug or two, and those minuscule pests are somehow my
favourite feature.
Or was it her?
Blonde with a bad haircut she can't quite grow out, yet she is  
still always progressing. I only wish to shower her in nosegay and tell her all will be okay.
Though she will never believe me, not until she allows a certain someone a seat at the table and
confronts them for what they are. She will glare with glowing eyes and ask every
question that deserves to be answered.
She can't yet say goodbye. But one day she will.

I thought i felt a shadow looming over me, it turned out only to be the edge of a ripped frame. But not only, for an edge is still an edge and it's getting scarier what these kids are starting to say about it. Closer they go and I'm trying my best to keep sitting in the centre but still i call out to them and I understand there is an unanswered question there yet it won't work because they got bugs in there minds that whisper stuff when they sleep at night and the things i try to scream don't matter. At least i can say I tried?
They're dead inside.

How much longer will my stairs be able to hide my problems?
Up, up, up, they go! Face? Are you still hanging on, even by only a last mascaraed lash? Say what you want, but spiders are in.. At least that's what the street kids and i
philosophise. It's time for the cob webs to do their dance, there is no meaning.
I only have minutes left, 3:48 to be exact.

It's me or the monster, who makes the first move.
I must tame this unruly beast, this winter coat.
Yet with a blade this rusty, the supermarket will be out of band aids by the time i'm
through with this pale, pudgy, political mess.
The now *****, steamed pools of chemical filled culture, swirling down my drain,
trapped on dry edges. I watch in utter disgust as a shade of ruby follows, descending to
the pits of anti-feminist hell.

Shaving's a *****!