We live in our own world,
A world that is too small
For you to stoop and enter
Even on hands and knees,
The adult subterfuge.
And though you probe and pry
With analytic eye,
And eavesdrop all our talk
With an amused look,
You cannot find the centre
Where we dance, where we play,
Where life is still asleep
Under the closed flower,
Under the smooth shell
Of eggs in the cupped nest
That mock the faded blue
Of your remoter heaven.

There's a mirror in the bedroom
in it stands a dying girl
fading now, her skin transparent
pale beneath her crimson curls.

Standing there beneath her heartbreak
weighted down by the love of man,
enchanted by her slowing heartbeat,
love lies bleeding in her hand.

Deep inside she holds a secret,
words that form a heavy cross
with brittle spine it's weight she carries
fearing judgement, feeling lost.

There's a mirror in the bedroom
at my broken self I stare
shaking now, I'll start erasing
till I am no longer there.

since i'm no one special
but just another wide-eyed girl
desperately falling in love with you

with my face that blend into the crowds
yelling your name as they reach out for you

and my words and rapid heartbeat
swallowed down by their screams

i can only hope you take at least
one look in my direction
and i'll take it as if you looked at me
like we were the only ones in that room

This house is filled with faces
Ones that I cannot stand
They rule the roost in places
Under beds holding hands

Like children with scissors tall
Running in hopes
That the blades will fall
Around necks like ropes

This house is filled with faces
I feel compressed, congested
My ears are filled with your disgust
My heart rusted without your love
But I hope one day when you're gone
They won't find what you did to me

No clues, no traces

I have this feeling,
that every thing,
every
single
thing
is going to end.
And the worst part is not that,
is that I have the feeling
that when there is nothing more in here,
no more stars in the sky,
no more smell of damp earth,
no more soft breeze at five,
no more yellow in my neighbour's window,
no more blank pages on my diary,
no more creak from my old door...

I have the feeling that,
when there is just white noise,
I am still going to be here,
motionless,
as always.

n/a