Glum am I, engrossed in grey mourning fog,
Wherefore, I do not possess knowledge of.
My present is but "now", this ashy grog,
Yet, there am I, in youthful days of love.
I bounce on bubbles of a buoyant laugh,
Expelled from throat that swore his perfection.
Denouncing prophets of a coming wrath,
I dance upon clouds of this connection.
Now I return, and laugh in bitter mirth.
It fits; two types of innocence should die.
Three years pregnant, my sensible rebirth,
For death does dwell in letters of a lie.
These swells of fog recede, I am alive;
A better woman, left, to live and thrive.

What is this? Oh what is this?
My word, my Love, I thought I’d missed!
And in the darkened depths of deep,
I saw no light, but dreams in sleep.

Yet, hark! The blinding light of day,
For from the depths, I’d come away!
And in the water, pure and clean,
I float so softly down a stream.

Alas, thought I, must be a vision,
dream of Sublime with great precision.
As my heart sank, so did my body,
(subconscious world should be so haughty)

I struggled soft, now sitting straight,
the word around did not abate.
I looked in awe, what should I see?
My love there standing, smiling at me.

I ran to him, tears flying so,
we fell beneath the tulips, low.
We laughed and cried,
Groaned and died,

Beneath the flowering cherry tree,
Beside the stream, singing to me,
Below the sky of dreams to be,
Betwixt the tulips, thousand three.

Could this be true? Oh how are you!
I ask my Love, facing the sky.
He turns to me, his face is blue,
Shocked, but still, I ask not why.

And out of silence, this I hear,
disturb’d water, splashing thus;
I turn to look, and this I fear,
a darkened demon; run, I must.

Yet petrified I do remain,
the greatly grinning gargoyle barks,
I clutch my Lover’s hand in vain,
for he, still blue, is frozen, stark.

“What shall we have for dinner, say?”
Was demon’s question to be solved.
“I must ask you to go away!”
He cackles loud at my resolve.

And flies to me, hands ‘round my neck,
Somehow, now, my Love is gone.
Should I have kept my heart in check?
For love is what demons dine on,

Beneath the flowering cherry tree,
Beside the stream, singing to me,
Below the sky of dreams to be,
Betwixt the tulips, thousand three.

Upon walking slowly from my despair,
I saw a turn’ed leaf.
Amongst the others, dark and rounded,
This one sat soundly,
Inverted,
Displaying bones and veins
For all to see.
Vulnerability is not the culprit
it’s been made out to be,
For the leaves seemed natural;
In chorus, their colored-symphony.
Were they all upright,
Green and bright in shining glory,
One might think it a picture
From a children’s story.
I sigh,
Gazing to the sky as I walk,
Farther, and farther away,
To felids unknown, but surely shown,
To my heart, I say,
“Let thyself be turned.”

The outsider is inside,
Inside the house, staring from the crusted window,
The latch calls to her in rusty tones.
She stares upon its existence,
wishing nothing more than to answer.

But the outsider, she is inside,
Her back turned to what she’s built,
Her eyes upon those who are outside,
Can they save her? Would they care to try?

Her elbow rests upon the dusty sill,
Eyes glossy like Rapunzel, the Golden One,
But she has grown old inside the house,
she has grown blind and deaf and dumb.

The outsider, she once wished,
to leave the depths of her understanding,
to venture into the clashing world,
to face the blatant nature of love,

But the outsider, she is inside,
over much has cried, died and lied.
The weight of gravity holds down the fort,
and her as well; she doesn’t fight.

She holds the hope she’ll someday be tempted,
to leave that which protects her so,
to venture through the grimy view,
lifted by that which holds her low.

The outsider, she’s still inside,
Forever more, should she still hide,
You could say that she should have tried,
She wanted to, with all her pride
To leave that which keeps her inside.
To leave that which keeps her inside.

If I dial your number right now
if you picked up right now
if I could talk to you right now
what would you say
Hi ?
I urge to explain myself to you
even if you never asked me to
cause you see love
the world doesn't understand me
And the closest ones to me they don't stand me
no more
How I stand by my ideals so strong
how I analyse the world on every little wrong
how I want to save the world but I don't do much about it
By now would you hang up the phone
would you leave me alone
Or would you listen a bit more

You may not be
a grotesque vision,
But you're a ****** pain
in the ***, my friend.
If you weren't so busy
trying to hinder my sleep,
Maybe you'd cross
To the side you belong.
Bug them all night long,
For crying out loud.
I'm sure those spirits
Are in need of someone
With the sense of humor
That you clearly possess.
After all, mocking me
Is your favorite endeavor,
Like a cheshire cat
With a moonlit grin.
Maybe that's your name.
Call you "Chesh"
For short.  
And laugh at your antics
Until you finally become bored.

But seriously though,
go away.