stars are born when old wishes die
ignited in the sky
by unbelieving eyes
up above the world so high
down below we weep and cry
faith turned hollow and bone-dry
closed up lips only deny
a prayer a plea before i die
wont these old wishes
wish me goodbye

The stars in the night have
a shimmer
Not so delicate any more
For my eyes have been dimmed
They wonder ever astray
Horizon ever there and
My knees fold with exhaustion
My needs never full and
I am tired again
Our ships have crossed these shores
But they are stranger every time
Or are we just strangers together
Sharing this moment in time

im struggling and still saying
its alright to depend on these words
even if dependence is no form of freedom
and former independence doesn't like to
be called out by his first name so he
writes like a ghost and ghosts his friends
like they're lost in the woods and looking
for him or at least his corpse
i guess that depends on how far his willpower
is willing to bend before becoming a coward
too afraid to respond it's all choked up
nothing in his (my) throat but smoke and
he (i) choke on the ash and fall on my (his) ***
trying to grab the rock to hold onto but it
crumbles in my (his) hand and he falls
to the echoes of my friends' calls
into the darkness and the darkness transforms
he and i into i and he
a split sewn together and fraying again
he isn't me but i can't help but
be him when i want to be me
so i turn back to words on
pages that bring some semblance
of comfort and a voice
to the chaos in his head
and taste the vitriol in my mouth
before spitting it back out
because it may be filling but
it has no sustenance beyond
what a fog can offer instead
so i step into the morning fog
away from him who
i've come to hate and love as much
as i hate him
so that maybe someday soon
i will love him more than i hate him
but until then it's cold this morning
and i hear my friends in the woods

my heart no longer
wonders or wanders
but beats with a
serenity scorched
by chaos and
left alone

alone with my thoughts
pain but then
forgiveness
my thoughts
it is finished
peace in the storm

and how are the flowers
that fail to blossom
still hanging in the
eaves of dawn
and still holding
sunlight in their petals
clutching tightly
and still leaking through
the ground is damp
but i can't feel a thing

there's a chill
in the air
its cold
mid july
except inside
where heaters glow
by those who fear
frost's bite
gather round
this quiet town
humble
but cold
your hands will reach
but not quite reach
the edge on which
we all fall down

and there your heart lies
teetering on the edge
waiting
for a quiet whisper
of a breeze
or a simple i love you
just waiting for something
to ground you
or make you fall
and oh
how far you will fall
before you find what
lies underneath it all