Though you drift like the wind that flew you to New Orleans
I find you, away and away again
I tried by best to drive by your old house
But it too was away and away again
Gone from my world
Away, into imagination
And away again
I'll go by again tomorrow

It's interesting
I used to walk these shimmering, ornate halls
Covered in copper and lapis lazuli
and rubies
I used to wear a ballgown and waltz
I used to gaze down from the balcony with a gleam in my eye
As the world looked up at me, at all of us

It's interesting
How things change with perspective
Now I'm seeing things quite differently
These ruby-coated walls have turned to bloodstain
They hold me in the skin of a second-rate queen
Someone I never wanted to be

The castle is falling
The castle was never tall
The castle only seemed to shimmer because it was made of glass

let's all get together by the campfire
and talk about the amazing things
we would do for each other
in some theoretical world
where we are the ones that need
things to be done

I miss the drama of my youth
I want to call up a storm
And set fire to my own mind
One painful memory at a time
Everything is just a slow, dull pain now
Like lying on the concrete staring at the stars
I want to roll onto the street with the cars
I want to dream about escape
But there is no such thing
As escaping nothingness

I've felt like a sailor a lot lately
An explorative scientist of sorts
Documenting my interpretation of life, into the void
The worst on these pages exist in the concrete world
But it's possible they could never be read
If a tree falls in the forest...
I mean
If a tree writes you a love letter in the forest
and seals it with liquid amber and pine straw
and buries it, snug under deep roots
Does it make a sound?
Can I tell you the truth with telepathy?
Can I hear yours?
If I dig a hole deep enough can I find the words you'll never tell me?
I'll close me eyes
and wait for a sign

Rejoice rejoice my heart is so very full of love!!!
It is not all for you
No, my darling, not all for you
This love is not all for you
It is for every fiber of the trees
That blow in the wind
Every discrepancy in the wind
Shifts and sway
Blew you into my morning cup of coffee

The cup of coffee
Is full of love
For the bitter taste
That you left on my tongue
Tasted like the back corner of my mind
You know the place
You stopped for what felt like a moment
Guess you thought you’d stay

My love is for the time that passed
So very slowly
The time between you and you
Taught me of a silent world
Bright
But bright and silent

Please please
Don’t leave again
Because I don’t know what I will do
If I have to spend yet another year in bright, white sun
Staring at the floor of an empty mug

I wish I could've gone to your lake house
I really wanted to

I saw a white butterfly today
Flapping in the rough, stormy wind
I hoped that is was a flag of surrender
Sent from the sky

but you know where to find me

all I want is something real
a drug I'm not too numb to feel
a burning wave, the summer rain
the fire I used to know
a burning kiss runs through my veins
perfect poison, pleasure, pain
and just like that I'm up in flames
for you, and you alone

mugwort dreams
can you remember?
snakes on the trees
yellow, pink, and green
you're sat there in between the trees
just like the moon
blue and unassuming

Meet me out on St. John's Terrace
Where the misty rain pervades
Where the city's distant
And the sky forever shades
Your eyes are soft and cloudy
Through the periwinkle haze
But I could see them sparkle
From a dozen towns away

I came to the parlor alone
Upon walking in, I saw Tom Baggel with a blonde date in the leather shoe store
Avoiding eye contact, I dashed past the phone kiosk and the closetway into the sunroom
Where I sat on a wooden stool and stared at the garden through the misty window

Remembering the first night I ever came to this godforsaken place
It was ages ago
Alaina and I attended a party in this very garden
We left our bottle of watered-down whipped-cream-flavored Smirnoff
In a very tall Cypress tree
And spent a drunken hour trying to shake it down
Alaina, always a diplomat, was so upset about the loss of our dear lord and savior ***** bottle
That she kicked over the angel statue at the base of the tree
And that poor angel lived the rest of its days will only one wing

The sunroom is such a peaceful place to collect your thoughts alone
It is not frequented by clientele and it has moldy mattresses scattered around on the floor
Sometimes there’s a drunken sailor sleeping there
But you don’t have to worry about him talking to you
He won’t ask you questions about the weather or the neighbor’s new dog
At most he will ask you to fill up his glass with the fountain of red wine on the windowsill
And if you say no he will go back to sleep

The glittering laughter of party girls poured in like an avalanche through the closetway
There was no reason for me to turn my head
I already knew who they were
They were exactly who I wanted them to be
But that didn’t change the fact that I wished they were anywhere but here
They gathered me up in their rose petal arms
And sang me some terrible song about the bright pink light inside of me
Until I had to wriggle out of their arms like some lovesick worm
Until I needed fresh air

Out in the misty garden I shared a damp cigarette with Tom
I wanted to be alone again but I was glad he was there
He didn’t have to ask me why I came to the parlor alone
And I didn’t have to ask him about his blonde date in the leather shoe store
I already knew exactly who she was
But that didn’t change the fact
That he wasn’t in the mood
For vitamins and lemon tea
For a good night sleep
For a morning walk
People don’t come to the parlor for that sort of thing

two figures appear in the midnight blue air
in the slick metallic silence of the nightworld
where breezes materialize into sound
but nothing to fear
still only two figures
sorry for jumping like a cottontail
i thought i heard somebody

it was nineteen eighty eight
a black and white world of possibility
is centered sweetly on the vast rosewood
a red gown drips down the ivory
while the second figure
distracts himself from the massacre
i thought i heard somebody singing in the other room
but it was just my voice in my head
burning yet another red

sweet transparency of the small walled studio
we would live on the eighty eighth story
i can see the hudson from here
better yet i can see the ghost of everyone
there’s a certain silence
only present in cold clean white sheets
when you’re lonely too
i thought i heard somebody screaming in the other room
but it was just my bones
getting used to the growing forgetfulness

the bleak and black
two figures huddle under a silk umbrella
there is a smell of wet dirt
and out of the ground comes a little worm looking thing
upon a close and careful look i saw it’s small swivelling ghost
i thought i heard somebody crying in the other room
but it was just the wind
creeping through every crevice at the worst time

for as long as I can remember
I have wanted my life to be like a movie
even in pre-school I remember dancing alone
in my ballerina outfit
hoping my crush would show up and be blown away
and fall in love with me

so I waited impatiently to be a teenager
when life is like all the movies i'd seen
and it was-
trashing rich kid's houses
falling in love on the beach
being high at the football games
falling in love with a fifteen year old alleged coke dealer
all the tropes

the thing is
I never grew out of that desire
I still want it to be just like a movie
perfect and tied neatly and never boring
but it's not that way

why do I feel like real life is not good enough?
too much meds exposure?
an inkling for escapism, rooted in my parents' divorce
the privilege of a growing up with few enough financial struggles that they were able to be concealed from you
the escapism from the years you blacked out

it wasn't alcoholism that tore my parents apart-
they both overcame a huge struggle
and, as highly developed beings,
still couldn't experience love forever
did they just choose someone with values that's alignment altered?

anyway I love _ and I love and I love
all in a day's work
and I appreciate _ for his contributions

he thought he was supposed to be a rapper
or a writer
or a gangster
a multi millionaire in some capacity
and maybe it was true
he always talked about leaving a legacy
because he wanted to live forever and couldn't figure out how
but you leave a legacy when someone loved you
like I did
you leave a legacy when an artist loved you
like I did
because you're in my songs
and you're in every other love I've ever had
it's all connected
maybe people aren't that special
or maybe it makes them more special
because each person you meet is an opportunity to connect with the whole world
and the divine

I think I have accepted that I miss the touch
I miss it enough to make a change
if a love is real they will accept you for who you are
but I'm not worried that that doesn't exist for me
I know it does
so I must be scared of something else
I think I'm scared to give up on my dreams
because I don't know what they are
and trying to hold onto them is like reaching for a bundle of a dozen
invisible balloons

I thought I was supposed to be a singer
a writer
an actress
a director
an artist in some capacity
never cared to be a multi millionaire
but I didn't realize what being broke felt like
it feels like running on a treadmill
it feels like using your breath to inflate a dozen invisible balloons as they pop as they expand

and I want to go back to england
and I want to move to new york
and I want to give it all up and live on the beaches
and I want to stay right here in Tennessee forever

and I think I want to do it alone
but I don't want to go insane
I'm not too worried of what people will think
of a girl who spends their whole twenties alone
I'm worried what it will do to me
but im worried what a relationship will do to me more
the first fear its gaining
and I think it's more reliable
because frost slept on the road most traveled
the road more often travelled

but I guess I can take comfort in that poem
he said it made all the difference
in a good way I can only assume

I just realized
all my poems are about you
and in them
you’re always falling in love
with someone else

even in my dreams
I never let it be me