If you were to dig a hole
For every time you've made
me think that I should go
D          I          E                  
in one,
there still wouldn't be enough dirt
to fill in your    e                            soul.
                               m                y
                                    p       t

A map guide clarifying the wrong place
Stoic expressions with implied purpose are no help
Busy streets bustling about this foreign land of no lights
High buildings sporting officiality block my view
Of the mountains and rivers now paved over by ideals of the future
A showcase of grey streets, walls, and skies; I am left hopeless.

No color, no contrast, just black and white: the architects are hopeless
All the intricate designs and patterns are of a different time and place
I cannot be trapped in the colorless cinema of the town; I search for a vibrant future
Native minds drear into the day, knowing not that they desperately need help
The neon lights and rain shower rainbows are not an element of the city's depressed view
It's as if the colorblind man blackened the city and closed his curtains to the light

The planes cannot find where to land because someone put out the runway lights
Auras only shine in black and white, the long since hopeful are now helplessly hopeless
I exhale my dissapointment towards the uninspired dead end view
And mournful rainbows melt out of the sky, defeated. Why did I come here in the first place?
Perhaps I am the prophecy, the ******, the angelic omen sent by God to help
Or perhaps that is conceited; one person alone cannot brighten this future.

No amount of psychic ability or math calculations could have predicted this future
Somebody shot down the angels, choked out all the lights
Malicious villains took over as citizens realized superman wasn't coming to help
Thus the people watched as the color drained out and faded away, oh, they are hopeless
Cacophonous chaos throws broken hearts, leaving shards all over the place
A kaleidoscope zoom reflects nothing but melancholy expressions into my view.

When was the last time the sunshine peeked through the window's view?
Did the sun burn out from uncertain predictions of the future?
I try to envision when only the bleakness of TV sets in the city were out of place
Because psychedelic intricacies ruled, shinning proud neon lights
But then the clouds greyed the sky once the colorblind man began to feel hopeless
His dimension of colors disagreed with the perception of others, shying him from help

Nobody could answer his message in a bottle, his SOS, his plea for help
So day after day darker walls constructed over his already restricted view
At points in our lives our faith finds nothing to battle the hopeless
But news of the blind man seeing purple mountains ignites faith in the future
Of the man of no color who painted the city grey and drained the neon lights
Because his color is not non-existent, but waiting to be found in his own secret place

So perhaps we can help transform this dystopia into a brighter future
We cannot let be a view that we know has the capability to glitter in the light
We will smolder the pollution cloud of hopeless energy and enlighten this place.

It's the memories of you
Of how you made me feel
That made me smile so genuinely
Of the sparks
That crackled between our hands
Of the butterflies
That caressed my stomach
Of the love
That tinged my cheeks pink

Which still attracts me to you
Like a bug to the light
Hoping that in your eyes
I'll see a flicker, a flash
Of the fire you used
To ignite in me

But I am hopelessly
Disappointed
By the fire we both
Stopped caring for
Whose flame burned out
Not from the rain
But from the wood
That turned to ashes
When the flames had
No where to else flicker

So they turned
From red
To orange
To black
Ashes
They're all that is left to show
For whatever it was between us

And half-heatedly I poke
At the remains,
Wishing that back then
I had known
That it would end
As simply as this
Too soon, too undeveloped
From fire to ashes
We quickly burned.

Forecasted detachment
Pours onto the floor
Oh, sweetie,
Did you really think I could take any more?

The disorganized mess
A constellation of blood drops
Are spit-sput-spattering
Razor blades are my props.

Barbed wire barriers
Built up in seclusion
I close the heavy curtains
And hide inside my illusion.

I say safety
Is solely for the weak
But trapped inside my emotions
I have no logical right to speak.

You came out and scared me
When you refused to let me be
My saltwater barrier didn't repel you
The way I thought it would do.

Actions speak louder than words, they told me
But I have no actions that speak louder than my voice
My words are my actions, I told them.

My words are fathomed together to hurt you
My words are pierced with uncontrollable anger
My words are stumbling out of my mouth half conscious
My words are poisoned by the perception of what I see
My words are empty but they hit you like a brick
My words are rubbed raw from my tired heart

Actions speak louder than words, they told me
But they tell me a lot of things.

We change over night
As the darkness chills us to the bone
We become stiff with bitter memories
That once seemed so right

Milky twilight revealing our faces
Casts soft shadows over once pithy edges
Of what is in front and what is behind us
The thickness of night skews our surroundings

Perception misconceptions grant us the right to stare
Our hearts are told to beat faster by stagnant movements in the distance
We are not the only bitter creatures influenced by the night to play
Because it's easier to pretend to see something when nothing is there