Psychedelic prison of the absent mind,
Gambling the sanity and reason
Of the unexpected rotting body,
Feed me up with gracious insanity
And close the doors of this vicious world.
Sniff that shinning white powder
That give you the strength to continue.
Erase the doubts of your existence
And feed your lies with broken promises.
Walk the line of misery
And smile at your end.
You know control, you know the hows
And you know you are closing me down.
I feel you’re weak and you’re driving me insane,
Forget the pain of your existence
And feed the dreams with lies untold.
Take away the shame, the regret
And go, go naked to the ultimate fight,
You no longer are, you know longer know
You lost yourself in the way.
Psychedelic prison of the absent mind
Shut up in your madness
You no longer control,
You lost yourself in the way…

Yes,i was there...
The small red rose gave colour to her life and death...
And she...
She was beautiful, smiling in that old grey picture...Doomed to live there in eternity...
You want to know what i did?
I kneeled and lit her candle one more time...

Ignorance
is beautiful
when it's strung together with metal links
and hung like chains in the candlelight
so the world can see it glisten on the sour part
at just the right time.
My body,
liked to **** up that ignorance
late at night when the moonlight uncovered my hidden despair,
my secret wish that you could be mine,
so that I could pretend like it still didn't hurt that much,
like it still wasn't painful to open my eyes
when the sun came up.

When my future became blurry,
I found clarity in the comfort of the past
because truth is,
I knew it well.
So I opened the lock on the wrecking ball cabinet,
let it explode all over my life
burnt out all the flame remnants
with my fingers,
numb.
I let myself love this stencil someone
of everything I told myself I'd never give excuses to
no more,
because that was easier,
pure ignorance was more painless
than admitting
I still needed you,
after all these days.

I mean,
how is it we continue to want those that break us apart?
And why is it we can erasing the memories, tearing and tugging the stitches
but people still remain in our hearts?
I mean,
how is it after this complicated translation
I still want back to you,
I still want
you.

It didn't make sense to me,
and I cruelly didn't want it to make sense to you.
So I fragmentaly kept it covered in my safety guard,
my ignorance
because that's easier than sinking into innocence,
calling out help, tracing out apologies on your skin,
begging you to believe that trust is more than just
some cacophony I've prepared in the back of my soul.
It's easier than trying to get you to believe in me again.

I didn't want to admit that I needed you,
but I do.

Ignorance
is beautiful

when it's strung together with metal links
and hung like chains in the candlelight
so the world can see it glisten on the sour part
at just the right time.

Once,
before our hands first held,
we sat and muffined here
(we shared a cake,
two forks, one plate).
Then, as now,
surrounded:
by your sweet self,
this so gentle spirit,
an all-embracing gift
unwrapped and sometimes held
just as sleep calls us to its own,
descending now as slow rain
on a damp day, clouds low
in the valleys, greyness,
greyness everywhere,
except in your eyes' promise.

I just wanted to write a poem
And have it disappear into infinity
Not looking for validity
That it was only loved by me.

Just when you really love someone
You hold the words close
Like a firefly in you hands
Because if you open them to show someone
It could fly away into the clouds.

But now my room is overflowing
With things longing to escape
But I lock the door
Because I know once they leave
I’ll forget what they looked like.

Room is the same,
she knows, even
the curtains hang
similar to those she
had when it all began.  

The bed has the
memories soaked
into the very fabric
and springs, she
bounces minutely,

to set the memories
in motion. She stares
out at the window’s
view, the same old
houses and trees as

was before. She sat
here once listening
for the door. He’d come
back, he said. Would
have it set out in ******

play, she would wait
until told, just her, the
bed, the silk flowered
curtains, the plain walls.  
He came many times

after, played his games,
licked and kissed and
had her when and as
he pleased. She listens
to the wind now that

plays in branches of
the trees, that shakes
the window frame, that
seems to whisper her
naughtiness, echoes

her name. Yes, the room
is, she sighs, the same.

Bitten tongues,
hardened tones,
damp, pale words,
closed ears,
silent eyes.

I could've warned you.
I wouldn't have warned you.