I did not look back following the light.  
As copper chimed in the rooting cellar
Of the morn, my heart muffled in delight,
Still in shroud, my father farmed the water.
Set his son to love and the kindred waters,
That man of fire swelled, plumbed with pride,
Made of self, stride and hollow pipes to solder  
His starry hands and elbows panicle the sky,  
But I, being water sign, a young Orpheus
Born in the underworld, found music and words
And maidens of air and earth and wanderlust
To the sun I ran, my fathers call not heard.
I did not look back following the light
Until my love called delivering the night.

There are nights when I cried so much I thought I'd wilt,
That all the colour would drain from me,
That all the life in me, all the air in my lungs
Would escape me and I would just stop.

Like an old clock, I would stop ticking.

People would still look at me and find me useful,
I'm sentimentally valuable.
But I am never to work properly again,
Eventually, they'll stop looking.

There's always hope.
I hurt so deeply, I hope I wilt.

i'm unraveling just as quickly
as your words,
and here we are
falling
again,
but this time,
not in the
right
way.

On a night like any other
What a sham it was to think,
As if my belly had changed address
That I’d settle for just one drink.
The bottle’s neck was all I did need
But my neck I did not heed.
Before the taste had left my lip
The bottle it did tip, surely just one more sip.

Since that very first compromise
A fog has thickened in my eyes.
I’m now mad at the wall and ready to brawl
With any fella I so choose to despise.
I’m a rooster tonight, with every cause to fight,
And every last hen in town is a ten.
So I’ll swoon every one, won’t stop till I’m done
Wake up drunk enough to do it again

But first, a trip to the loo
Hell bound for the toilette
So, on the no-one-near I don’t spew
Clearing this foul gullet.

I've never been in love, but it must be like waking up from a lovely dream.
It's probably something like a road trip without a destination.
I hope it's that feeling in your stomach as the roller coaster is dropping, electricity coursing through your veins.
Maybe it's like a camera, freezing moments that feel like forever.
I bet its something like the glittering embers in the sky, just after a firework burst into a dozen lights.
I'm sure love is like a constellation, where you can connect the dots to create a story.
Love must be like rain drops on a window, accumulating slowly, then racing to the brim of the frame.
I think love is like an eclipse. The sun and the moon circling the globe, in search of each other. And when they finally meet, the world stops to watch.
For me, I know love is a dusty typewriter, waiting for its story to be written.