Writing something when you're full
Makes you mix up lion with bull
When you stay off the kitchen
Your stomach feels some itching
Later maybe have some tea
Having too much makes you ***
Take some time to digest
This way you can say the best

i still remember
when you asked me
"where have you been all my life?"
and in that moment
i knew
the word swam around my head
it was beating against the inside of my skull
like the screamo band
playing on the stage
of the ***** little bar
where i accidentally
mentally
tied myself
to you
aquarius

i had never headbanged
in my life
and i will never again
because i am nothing to you
nothing but a summer fling
nothing but a rebel cause
i don't want to be your rebel cause
i don't want to be the reason
your mother can't sleep at night
i will never be anything more
than a war you chose to fight
i woke up with my neck sore
i should have known the first time
i had a dream where you were choking me
i clearly was too blind you see

when was the last time
you had that feeling in your gut?
i asked you why
you always kept your pages shut
but never thought to close mine

it's hard to feel anything
but this hole that you left me
and the thoughts that sting
even when i don't think of you
because everything reminds me its true
i thought i was okay
until i saw your cigarettes in my trash can
i didn't feel insane
until i found your shirt under my mess
i hadn't cried for two whole hours
picture that and nothing less
i remembered when that bed was ours
and that was the only place you'd confess

i wonder if things are the same for you
i wonder if you can stand to hear the music you polluted my life with
can you hear me screaming ******
behind the melody line?
i can't even stand my own skin
impossible
your hands have been on it
and my mouth
you used to swear it was the only thing that existed

unfortunate
that i am not
nor will be
the only one
that fell into your flame
and lost at your game

Drowning in your eyes
Wild and blue like the ocean
Tossing about in their storm
Is the most poetic way
That I've ever died.

///

One day these bricks and buildings were meadows
These fields the processions of spring garden

One day on these meadows used to play the cowboy’s melancholy flute  
These fields the playground of the furious grasshoppers

These bricks were rivers
These buildings processions of water

In these rivers the moon's dispersion played on the uprising waves,
How softly the sailor sang his lonely song, disappearing within the shadows!

Travelers,
Have I told you a fairy tale?

///

A mirror
constantly
in the state
of not knowing.
It only
Reflects
from the
outside...

Pure awareness
constantly
in the state
of knowing.
It reflects
Itself
In
Itself*...