Our love was like a tablecloth.
White, pleated, and stuffed away for special occasions.
You wouldn't let me take it out, half the time.
I'm clumsy, and you didn't want me to paint it red.
Just let it's gleaming brightness adorn our table.
But keep it hidden.
As for special occasions, I can name three:

One-- The day I met you, while the flowers bloomed outside.

Two-- When we walked beneath the city lights, all in the dark of night.

Three-- The day you left, disappeared from my sight.

So today I'll bring it out...
That white pleated tablecloth,
You're not here, I'll paint it red.

There is an endless brutality
Mixed inside this gentle soul.
And it takes it out,
On the one most ill-suited to sustain it's relentless attacks.

To understand it requires:
A Kindred Spirit,
With an Unrequited Love...

It isn't that I feed off negativity,
I simply force myself into a dark room
and light a single candle.
I take the dark, and t̶u̶r̶n̶ ̶i̶t̶
Transform it into something else....
Entirely different from the shattered form,
Others saw it as.

Think of the earth
With all the roots
Stabbing the soil.
How they may sprout into beautiful flowers,
Given a few tears,
And the light of the sun...

But I work in the opposite way.
I live on in dreams.
Picture it, Hope.
The one emotion that seems, ever so far away.
But we cling to it!
So, I feed on Hope
............Continue,
Without it,
I will die!

Tell me,
Are you listening to these words?
They fell from my mouth.
Raindrops, scattering silence.
Through wisps of faint crackling,
The embers now ash. Before the throne of God
I called you Saviour
I called you Goddess
I called you Life Itself!
And now... Look!
I'm falling from reality,
Into a fictional anguish.
So listen, Please... Listen!
I do not hate, the way you impassioned my grasp.
I cannot be anything else,
But a light, flickering into dark skies.
I am you, or the part of you
That you cannot love, but do...

I thank you,
My cold sweet lover.
That you left me in the damp, dark, frigid night.
So on my own, I could learn
The grief of stones.
That solemnly watch,
The world change above them.
And in the end, are gathered in each of your lovely hands,
To be crushed and ground,
Made into the bricks that buttress,
Your humble abode.

Paint me with oil,
Or hot burning lead
That gently singes the flesh
Where your name once read

Out of despair comes hope,
All isn't lost!
But I can never cope
When the butterflies die

I search for words
In dictionaries and books
That fly in your head
Just like birds in the vast blue sky

So please! Paint me with oil,
Or hot burning lead
So I can see beyond,
Where your name once read.

The moon shines no more
I could never rest under the sun
That I know to be true
But I'd come out under the moon.
Its modest brilliance, paling before the light of the sun.
But now, even the moonlight burns my eyes.
Instead of brilliant yellow,
I searched far and wide for ashen white.
Now I search the sky
For clouds, to hide behind:
Clouds of all shapes,
Clouds of all sizes,
That replace uniqueness
With transient whispers of specter silence
Where dreams become what?
Dreams Fade
And I disintegrate
The Moon Crashes.
Scarring it's pristine white
With cratering canyons.
Now the sun sinks
Into eclipsing dark.
And I'm afraid, that you'll never find me.
Even if you feel that's O.K.
Who knows,
Maybe it is....
So Goodbye Moon
Your brilliance has lost its luster,
In the cavernous gutter I'm in

The night comes again
I watch as the sun disappears on the horizon
As thoughts blow up in my mind
I realize that your words make as much sense to me, as they do to you
And every minute I sink.
I sink further into this fantasy.
Where Truth is stranger than fiction,
Maybe dreams mean more than reality.
I no longer know:
All I know is the longing, the angst.
The feeling that as much as I have fallen
There is still so much more
With you, I discover new depths
I learn things I can't understand.
But I know, in one way or another.
The end is near
It is always so near
I reach out,
Clasp it in my hands,
Know it in my heart
Then, it scurries away.
And through it, I hear a voice
Is it yours, or is it mine?
Neither of us knows
It's the river, it's the wind, it's the leaves, it's the tree, it's your heart, it's mine.
Reality is a figment of imagination
The breath is what makes it real.
Madness, is sinking to the bottom
And going further.
Further is where I go
Further is where we go.
We lead each other there,
Without knowing who's ahead.
Sleep well, my dear, sleep tight
The dream is as real as we are
And dreams of you, I shall have