Step out into the cold where no one goes,
where the night air speaks no words of hurt or hate.

The fog of your breath distills in moonlight,
and somewhere a dog barks at the sound of cars.

A wraith-like plastic bag drifts down the street,
a specter, like you, that wanders all alone.

You walk the lonely familiar sidewalks,
hopelessly attempting to forget yourself.

The silent stars above look so becalmed,
though tormented by the slow turmoil of space.

You tread along a crack in the cement,
just like it's a cord that bears you through the air.

In the end the cold reaches into you,
and freezes your wandering will to go on.

Though the cold, the moon, and the stars remain,
you happily crawl back to the place you left.

Who will believe in me now that you're gone?
Who will forgive me for being myself
and convince me that I'm somebody worth being?
Who will selflessly give me all that they have
just so I will believe in a thing called Me?

I wish I had an angel's wings
so I could fly from these places that I know
and all the people that I disappoint.
But I know I could not hide from you.

I wish I had a cross to bear.
One lighter than the one you made,
the one I carry for your love,
the one I don't deserve.

I wish my life was like a song.
A song about a perfect person.

Heaven is an empty room and God is silence.
Or, in this silence, you are God
and the whole of creation is the thoughts you have
in the silence of this empty room.

Angels are just corpses with borrowed eagle wings,
they bring us into life with the discord that they sing.

I walk along a star-scape with my heart out on my sleeve,
and all the little dreams I have are lies to be believed.

The dark is getting closer now, but I'm still wide awake
and being bent as far as this is causing me to break.

So many I have hidden from, but from you I can't hide;
you've seen me at my very worst so you know when I've lied.

So take me from this star-scape, take my heart from off my sleeve,
show me what the truth is. Give me something to believe.

To the friend I knew I'd never know that I had all along.
To my companion, my shadow,
though often it felt as if I were standing in yours.
Always there, wearing your mask of indifference and hate.
People tell me that they've seen your heart,
they've seen you cry, and defend the weak.
I know now that you're just like me,
more lonely, but that's because you like it.
Brother, I know that we may never embrace,
I know that I may never tell you how much I admire you.
I'll probably never play with you,
as we once did when we were only five and six.
Little brother, there's so much that I'll never do.
But everything I'll never do is something that would say
I love you.

Down we fell, down from the sky.
Remember how we used to fly?
Around the seas and moats of stars.
Now we're trapped within our cars.

And now we look up at the sky.
And still we ache, each day, to fly.
Through telescopes we watch the stars,
Surrounded by the sounds of cars.

Please let me back into the sky.
I know now that I'm meant to fly.
Once more, let me traverse the stars.
Escape this world, and all its cars.

Lean up against the wall and cry.
I like to watch you as you cry.
I'm part of something when you cry.
That might be why I make you cry.

Collapse into your bed and dream.
I like to think that you still dream.
It comforts me to hear you dream.
Am I the reason that you dream?

Throw back your soaking hair and breathe.
I like to hold you when you breathe.
I sigh, relieved, each time you breathe.
Because you give me cause to breathe.

Step out into the cold where no one goes,
where the night air speaks no words of hurt or hate.

The fog of your breath distills in moonlight,
and somewhere a dog barks at the sound of cars.

A wraith-like plastic bag drifts down the street,
a specter, like you, that wanders all alone.

You walk the lonely familiar sidewalks,
hopelessly attempting to forget yourself.

The silent stars above look so becalmed,
though tormented by the slow turmoil of space.

You tread along a crack in the cement,
just like it's a cord that bears you through the air.

In the end the cold reaches into you,
and freezes your wandering will to go on.

Though the cold, the moon, and the stars remain,
you happily crawl back to the place you left.

Don't speak to me of dead things.
Memories,
nothing but
surround sound moving pictures of
dead noises,
dead cells,
decaying bodies and relationships.
Dead people.
Dead things.

I had a lump once,
under my skin.
Small and unobtrusive
with nothing to say.
It never hurt me or made me sick
but I was still afraid of it.

I paid a man to carve it out,
and when he did I saw it.
Just a small little tumor of fat,
benign and pink.
It had never caused me harm,
and now that it's gone I'm left with a scar.

On my knees in the rain,
looking up,
blinking back drops of rain.

All around me people laugh,
they look down,
at me they point and they laugh.

The tower, like a scar against the sky,
stabbing into clouds,
with one eye looks from its place in the sky.

The tower's unblinking eye is just a lighted window.
There's a girl up there.
She knows I'm down here, but she doesn't come to the window.

I kneel at the foot of the tower. I scream, and I beg the girl to come to me.
The people point and laugh;
They know that I will never move, and that she won't ever come down for me.

Words.
Words in a herd.
A herd of small words that beg to be heard.
Sound.
Sounds from the ground.
An unnoticed sound of those left in the ground.
Dead.
Dead in the bed.
A young man who died while asleep in his bed.
Dream.
Dream til the scream.
A beautiful dream that ends with a scream.
Shout.
Shout to get out.
You cry and you shout and you beg to get out.
Free.
Free absentee.
The unoccupied cell of a freed absentee.
Gone.
Gone is the pawn.
The man that is gone is no longer your pawn.
Game.
Game full of blame.
A game between two where we both share the blame.
Guilt.
Guilt that is built.
The engineered guilt of those that God built.
Make.
Make it with hate.
All that you make inherits your hate.
Love.
Love's not enough.
When the world goes to hell love will not be enough.

All the shards of a broken shallow cup.
They cut your hands,
they make you bleed.
Blood drips from your unclenched hands,
mixing with a sea of tears.

I come along and help you up,
then knock you back down to your knees,
and you will never understand.