Photography is natural
shutters laced in mascara
I capture things more quickly when things start to get to me
Teardrops on my lenses always did make things hazy
But most of the time I look for things in their simplicity
Like capturing your step
Just to learn the cadence
My memory is but a stop motion
Of everything set to earth’s rotation
and It always did seem creepy
That id remember things exactly
So I started pretending
That I forget almost everything
But when the theater lights go out
I replay all my favorite movies
Of exactly what life truly meant to me
Because with a photographic memory
Nothing is left coyly
Which comes to remind me
Of why I have to break things to see them differently
Because if you stare at a photo long enough
A thousand words come to mind
Which is why I was never a good photographer
And instead a bit of a geographer
Painting the world as I saw it
In the words that were left unspoken
Because they tend to make my life feel a little more vibrant
Like the saturation got turned up a bit
And it changed the way I remembered all of it

I always thought I was so careful
trying to make sure that I left your heart whole
and no matter how many times I left a bread trail
I'd turn around to retrace my steps and fall short
and no matter how careful, I'd still be lost

I'd try to sort it out, work it out
and it'll all add up to screams and shouts
just hoping that someone would hear to let us out
now that we've come to see the light
let's all just be alright

I swear I never meant for it to happen like this
a broken record stuck on the part of the song that got popular
like this rut that we fell into that became so well known
and all the songs that finish out the album are stuck behind a wall too tall
I hated to tell you that I had finally fell victim to all the scratches we were trying to fix

modern manifestation of Pandora's box all pent up
illogical is the scheme of the unnecessary complexities streaming through the streets
if its still pent up than what is this we hear now
if not the lack of sincerity in our propriety  and promiscuity
and if its still pent up than what terrors are in store
if not swirls of adjectives unimagined
fear is not properly capsulated in four letters
and the fear of understanding fear lingers and dances on top of our skulls
but we're toiling and boiling human existence promenade on
as if we don't know
that we're picking the lock on pandora's box
because our curiosity over comes our terror
and our faults lie in our finger tips
a vessel for the minuscule workings from our pineal gland

and we want change of our less than radical ways
so we take to slashed lines in our hash signs
imaginary walls for our feelings
for social acknowledgement
filters to play out the colors of our favorite days in ways that bring dismay when reality comes to play
press anonymity to our face as we tumble through pictures and rumble
from the upset mind to our side still continuing to fumble
with what they carry inside

oh but we're just a compilation
of
of minds gone mad
no
no of insanity gone blind
wait
wait just a combination of everything feared inside
but
but we're being picked and pried to peek out and greet every infamous lie

reality is pounding on the walls of your migraine
gripping the handles, your temples
fighting to get in again
and beat down your imagination
reality is the hammer that pressed the world
into a perfect circle
scared it to conform to the most universal undying form
but the hammer brought forth a sense of infinite unity
continuously circling the undying energy
of reality
of imaginary reality
of an infinite imaginary reality fueling our personal energy
reality snuck out of the box
slithered its way through the cracks and seams
reality isn't one form it would seem
its whatever it contorts and conforms to
to escape
to escape everything its sees in its way

oh but we're just a compilation
of
of minds gone mad
no
no of insanity gone blind
wait
wait just a combination of everything feared inside
but
but we're being picked and pried to peek out and greet every infamous lie

And im stuck in this room
insanity wrapping my brain like inescapable fumes
im trying to escape but they'll call me a loon
its such a small world i know they wont give me a break
but this inescapable tune
i just can't relate

intoxication of the soul is what im told
Im told it can't be bought nor sold
but rather found between the folds of another's soul
wait, please, please excuse me
what if the soul is caught in the box
fighting to get out
pandora's box waiting to be picked
by the handy lock smith
of life and insanity
but what's really the difference
in this careful contortion
but if caught how do I find this intoxication
everyone is talking about

Addiction is comical
amusing to the taker
in the moment
amusing to the ends
of destruction
amusing to the driving
of the mad

Addition is control
or loss of that
in which controls your control
control of yourself
in ways otherwise not feasible
control of your
surrounding and sense

Addiction is release
release from daily troubles and woes
release from traditional feeling and understanding
release from earthly prescriptions

and im addicted to everything in my wake
an addict with a pen
an addict with words and structure
an addict with a mad sense of the world around

But I don't want to float away
from everything that fears to straw
I don't want to fall away
from that of which I cannot come to accept

I want to hold to you
and keep you grounded
in me and my grounding from being grounded in you
I want to throw my anchor in your hands
with a strong grip
from tearing your fingers across reality
I want to hold to you

im dying to scream out to you
in silence
that we are all battling addiction
and worried about letting those anchors
slip from our weary finger tips
that we are all trying to figure it out
and we all notice something different
im dying to scream out to you
in silence
in unrequited gasps
that seep only to your pupils
and your understanding

This is your day
your wake
your break of the sheets
and the darkness
blinking open
to the light of the world
to the light of the soul
this is your life
and its easy
in the break of the sheets
the grip of the ground
beneath your feet
its easy
baby its breezy
dancing through the leaves
of the the trees
its breezy

I loved a creator once
who would toil his work into his finger tips
making sure that nothing would slip
least of all his grip
on how everything mechanical
coyly flirted until their power was tangible

and his pride piece in me
is where he created his masterpiece
of gentle woven love and sorrow
with a layer of modesty
and a hint and dash of promiscuity.
he'd create in me all that he dreamt I would be
and reluctantly left me to be free

I loved a hippie once
and before the day broke
he'd challenge every note that was spoke
because it was all a joke,
a humorous play on the minds of earth's children
who couldn't find it to be in unison
with their mother constantly in motion

and he'd look to me
to be everything that people failed to see
to preach of love and unity
amongst and between all things
and then carefully unbound me to be free

I loved a genius once
who bounded from one coil to another in his head
before he ever left the ruffled sheets in this bed
who toiled with thoughts and ideas and equations
claiming it all laid in a matter of expressions
and he'd seal his lips and wouldn't let a word slip
of the matters he came to undeniably grip

but he'd bring it all to me
a home to foster his creativity
and stretched my lens on reality
beyond measurable means
to which he'd finally let me run free

but between you and me
I was never really set free
because though created and set to believe
that everything in anything was everything
it was still him and me

but minds that are set to create and consider and imagine
should fail to be captured
by human traits and flawless dates
and so I set them all free
to be everything they could be
and I hope that they see
that its always them and me
because we are everything

it's all a matter of perception,
I said
like your smile being more than bared teeth
and instead a delicate kiss from your cheeks to the creases of your eyes
it really depends how you look at it
I mentioned
because it's not that I'm tired
I'm just whimsically floating in an infinite day dream

see,
it takes but a blink to turn a nightmare into a dream
it takes but a single sound to break a barrier
it occurs in an instant but for a lasting lifetime
but it's all a matter of perception

like my favorite story you found a bit childish
like your annoyance I found adorable
like our comfortable love our pasts could not reconcile
and it really just matters how you look at it

because physical paths will be contrived to cross and depart
but perceptions know nothing of physics
and run into one another
changing an explosion from destruction to splendor

Maybe this could be the dream
that becomes a reality
lucid dreaming comes easily
blurring the line between dreaming and reality
it makes it easy to take thoughts
translate them into your fantasies
taking it to the sheets
just to tease actuality
and, maybe I could become just a thought
or a trigger in your brain
to rumble your ribcage, trying to breathe
maybe I could just be a feeling
something, a souvenir  you brought back
from your latest escape from reality
baby, that might just be me
but you won't, you wont think of me
and you don't, you don't feel me
but no, I cannot think when you're gone
you took my tongue and led me wrong
you're my thought and you fled me, wronged
loved you, that was all of my heart
I steered you wrong, and you left me, gone

I miss you and Im furious at the way distance reveals nuances
like the deafening stop at the end of your sentences when you're mad
that you'd forget when the curving of your lips changed your pitch
to a *** boiling over from cooking up too many exciting things
and you'd pick the finest pens, sharpened just so to express your wit
across any surface that would allow it
i miss you and im afraid to say it
because im not ready yet to miss
the movement of your steps

I've listened to this song hundreds of times
the notes and voices piercing my ear drums
dancing down the sides of my face
flirting with unspoken words waiting to break free

but I sit in silence
diving in to the familiar notes
streaming the voice not afraid to be spoke
and I can't help but wonder
what danced upon the folds
of your brain
to bring forth beautiful worth
that I feel is spoke so directly to me
like holding my hand through this unconsolable labyrinth.

words that bring tears
to the eyes of those trying to hide
from what they feel inside
but these lyrics are going to strangle those
from your unbroken chest
and leave you broke
gasping in awe
wondering how it all came out

but until then
I sit in silence
cautiously staring about a world too big
jumping from anger to fear to sorrow
quicker than a blink
pushing my limbs to anxiety
against their will
fighting with the molecules of my own skin
with the ridges of my teeth
I can't handle it
cynicism setting in
seizing my limbs
but im sitting here with a silly grin

There are three of you that I don't write about
because I'm terrified of seeing the truth
but I know that what's true
would be the most beautiful painting
I've painted for you