Games,

I always told you I were good at them,
and you laughed and said you could play them better.

Now it's cold and I need my sweater,
your love is gone and my cheeks are wetter.

But it's suppose to get better.
I shouldn't feel so dead.
The only emotion I've felt at this point,
is when we laid in bed.

Games,

I guess you were right..
Because you're not the one up at night,
Replaying thoughts and causing fights
Playing games involving knives
I'll mark my skin, yeah that's right
I'll write your name, end my life
Games.

I wonder why things always turn out to be lies,
Makes me wonder, why am i alive?

So I think what would it be like, To fly?
Creating a close harmony with the sky.

It's a question of time,
To step out of line,
and to strive to make her mine.

A professor explained to me once
how there is a limited number
of possible designs for making
an arrow point function as intended.

You can't stick a round rock on a stick
and expect it to penetrate like a dart.

It has to be sharp and hard, yet light
to fly like a feather straight and true
to the heart. I said, you mean like love?

She said, yeah, like love, kinda like love.

Don't think. Feel. Listen. Sense the mysterious little light over your shoulder whispering in your ear. wonder into its words and run until you understand. Release the pulse and let go of what bounds you to the earth and everything cadaverous. Run into what you cant see, You are in control of how far you want to go.