White Knuckles Clench No Dreams,
Lips Speak No Truth--No Beauty,
Skin Beaten Black And Blue,
From The Hollowed Hearts We Carry,
Most Crumble Under This Weight,
Disintegrating Under The Influence,
Of Stereotypical Fame, Image, And Behavior,
Of Imperious And Deleterious Pride,
This Beginning Is No End--Just A Plethora Of Paths,
But Most Of Us Think That There Is No End,
So We Make One For Ourselves,
There Is No Ambition To Push For Change,
There Is No Passion Which Burns Behind Our Eyes,
There Is No Rapture In Our Already Corrupted Souls,
Our Minds Are Asleep--Drunk With The Desire To Escape,
We Have Palms--But They Do Not Reach For Stars,
We Have Feet--But We Don't Know How To Stand,
And We Have Eyelids, But We Cannot Keep Them Open

There’s a sick, sad little space
between tea spoons and midnight
where the teeth on your fingertips chatter
and the ink in your forearm prattles on
about which bone you’re going to pull out this time
and how your chapped lips taste like poetry
but your dry eyes can’t bend around the prosody
and it’s in that space that my clothes turned into feathers
and flew away with the *****
the one that pipes out those same four chords
and tempered breath made into rotting elephants on sale
but the bazaar called for more than just pennies
and I don’t think my cough medicine blinks enough
to make this dance hall stop spinning

well they say that your heart is the size of your fist
and my friends try to hit me but most times they miss
but your heart is a wrecking ball, i can’t escape it
and now I can’t remember the last time we kissed

and you buried my heart somewhere under your sheets
and my soul is out in the rain wandering the streets
and my mind’s in november trying to piece this together
and my body is trying so hard to remember

that there was a time when you looked in my eyes
and you told me i’m beautiful, but was it a lie
are these memories, killing me, haunting you too
and did you ever love me, dear, like i love you

were those words that you wrote to me covered in ink
that would wash away easy in the bathroom sink
off your hands, as you wash out the memory of me
while your colors still stain everything that i see

well they say that your heart is as big as your fist
and for all the times i’ve been knocked out i have missed
and your heart is a wrecking ball, can we survive this
when i can’t even remember the last time we kissed

yeah you buried my broken heart under these sheets
and my lonely soul’s lost somewhere out on the streets
and my mind’s in november trying to keep us together
and my body is shaking as i try to remember

the time that you held me and looked in my eyes
and you made me feel beautiful, and i felt alive
now these memories are killing me, do you miss me too
and could you ever love me, now, like i love you

were those words that you spoke to me covered in ink
that would wash away easily right down the sink
wash your hands of this, wash out the colors of me
while your memory stains everything that i see*

and they say that your heart is the size of your fist
and my friends try to hit me but most times they’ve missed
and your heart is a wrecking ball, i can’t escape it
and now i can’t remember the last time i kissed you.

i feel myself going numb again, and it's nice, and it's scary.

i just wish you'd come rescue me,

but i know i'm on my own.

besides, even if you wanted to, you'd probably be too late.

if every time i thought of you
i only shed one tear
i'd have myself an ocean
swimming, wishing you were here

if every time i thought of you
one tear was all i shed
i'd have myself an ocean
drowning, wishing i were dead

I snuck into your room last night
You always leave the doors unlocked and those lights aren’t fooling anyone
The floorboards creaked with cloudy memories and I feared I’d wake you
But your mind was buried so deeply in darkness the sky could not stir you

I laid with you in silence last night
Your bones whimpered and rattled like the bitter cold wind against the windows
The ice must have certainly entered through those tiny cracks in the glass, in your shell
Crystals fell softly from the ceiling and landed upon your cheeks

I took myself away from you last night
Peeled back your eyelids gently and wiped out the cloudiness I’d left there
Soft cotton picked up the old traces left on your skin, your fingertips; under your nails
Your mouth I traced with honey and perfumes; I placed young crickets under your pillow

I left you last night
Though you walked me to the door and watched me drive away, you never once saw me
You must have been dreaming that I was merely visiting; a guest, unaware
Blind to the mirror you dressed yourself in, and adorned in the “all along”

You always were a light sleeper.