Hold fast to dreams
Coz they are fast as water streams
For if dreams die
Life is a barren land without sky
Hold fast to dreams
As they can stay along with the realms
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field Frozen with snow.

You're a fool if you think true love isn't real

I spend too much time searching for home in people
I compare too many of them to the likes of it
I find new ones often and always
And I have made routine in my arrival
I set down my things, make myself comfortable
Find a spot next to the fireplace, directly in the presence of warmth
I curl between blankets and couches
I get to know the surroundings
I notice parts that most tenants would neglect to
Details are my specialty; I note each down with a sense of clarity
I create a photo album in my head for every part I should not remember
But I do, almost effortlessly
All of my senses take notes in permanent ink
I keep track of scent, sound, taste, touch, images
I engrain them into muscle memory
I begin to forget that this place I have settled in,
Isn’t mine to get used to
And when I have overstayed my welcome,
I am asked to go
I pack up, leaving most of me behind in the hurry
Once again I am forced to move and start over
I always do.

I look for home in too many people who’s hearts aren’t available for lease,
Bodies that are merely curtains hiding wreckage
I knock on locked doors hoping for an invitation inside
And the ones that are open are usually not prepared for company
I move in eagerly to creaky floorboards and leaking roofs
I pretend that there is nothing wrong with the structure
And when the house caves in I claim I didn’t know better
I willingly stand under shelter that doesn’t have the strength to hold even itself up
Then complain about the lack of protection when the rain comes
Natural disasters are as unpredictable as I am eager for constancy
But it is no fault but my own when I build upon fault lines
I know the weather forecast and still continue to create
I have become skilled at making something out of nothing
And nothing, I’ve learned, can only stretch for so long.

I am 'cause of what I'm not
and I want love, y'know, a bit of
everything and nothing at all
and, well, I want myself back.

I want to want myself.
I want to be myself.
I want to connect.
I want to LISTEN, but
why do I have to be so ******* deaf?

I'm in the backseat now,
behind the wheel, but I can't
hear where we're going

Could you turn it down?
I don't think they heard me.
Nice clouds, pretty trees,
I like the gradient of the sky.

Up and up the elevator and
I'm so tired of your words falling
shattered on my ear drums
as they translate into
polyrhythmic fuckery
and I'm left struck dumb
and scrambling for the downbeat

buzzing lights and whirring wires
humming fans and the squealing
of brakes from 16 floors down

sirens blind my mind's eye and
down on the streets I'm losing your words
like a fat pig chasing an anarchist
black mask, no idea
out of breath

Gah! Whisper in my ear, please.
I just want to climb all the hills and
valleys of your words and swim in
every nuance of their inflection

I just want to be a gift
Present, and able to
unwrap your song

wind blown
   and angry
disappointed
   and rude
cold
   and wet
waiting for the bus
   late of course
   cursing the sky
which responds
by batting my face
with more snow
grey skies
   annoying people

and you

the necessary heat
   that melts my heart.

"It was in the past"
"Everyone who survived is now dead"*

Yet she still sits at the bottom of the ocean,
A once great, beautiful ship.
Now split in two.
Her once stark white body,
Still rusting and rotting.
Her passengers once full of life,
Now full of the icy water that took their lives.
The ship that was unsinkable,
Sunk