Chaotic neutral lighthouse sirens.
The spirits of sailors lost returning from sea.
Ethereal beings and what not.
Insert sappy and haunting intro here.

It's 1941 and we are writing love letters,
Tucking them into a big oak tree
To retrieve on our way to and from school.
Cherry cokes and late night smoke breaks.

My downstairs neighbors are fighting,
And I'm watching snow land on the ocean.
I don't feel special.
Uncharted waters and peeling wallpaper.


"Vinyl is better baby,
Trust me,
You must have lost your edge."

Drop Dead

Television static nightmares.
Drowning in serotonin.
Melodramatics and acrobatics.
Punctured lungs and monkey bars.

I hate the sun.
I like the rain.
I am the rain.

I am cold,
I am needed
And I'm often times annoying.

I love singing in the rain.
I love walking in the rain.
I love driving in the rain.
I am calm.
The rain is calm.

I follow the rain.
I hate climbing hills and paths.
I am always going down,
Sometimes trickling along,
Sometimes I am a force that takes the surrounding earth by storm.

Everything seems brighter after it rains.
Greener greens and grayer grays.

I hate the sun,
And I feel like  you would have loved it.
My beautiful boy.
And I'm sorry that you never got to see it.
I wish I could have carried you to it.
I'm sorry you only got to feel my rain.
I hope it was enough for you.

How come every night with you
Feels like a one night stand?

Way to take a trip down the rabbit hole.
It's not all twists and turns and ups and downs.
Sometimes you have to lay still.
Sometimes things will be stagnant for a while.
Not everything is fluid and floating and moving and changing.
I think you can take five ******* minutes,
And breath.

I'm not interested in separating
Fiction from reality.
I'm into wanting what others have,
Living in excess,
Walking under water.

I'm purely aesthetic.

It's unsettling.
The shape and form and texture.
The way that you have manifested yourself.
From a light lilac sky
To a deep purple abyss.
It's still purple,
But.....