he's coming over

he said he'll bring
the carbon monoxide

because he
hates people

waking up

thank you for
turning me
into something
beautiful from
dust.

The eerie existence of a simple moment,
           Small and finite, yet full of pretentious meaning...
                                   Simply crossing through dimensions -
                       Almost systemiatically defining life,
           Clarity amongst a constant ibid of chaotic misdirection.
Leaving us with profound instances of life,
                                                                       death,
                                                                            love and loss...

fall through the floor of the elevator,
    held up by corkscrew works:

   here it is quiet and
           there is invisible fog and
                     the characters are dull replicas
                                                   save for the receptionist,
                                            just a lonely purple and orange
                                                     painted singular eye,
                              and her assistant, the trace.

                               when I've found someone
                                                   I feel even lonelier
                     to know how hollow they are,
           just presets and language

           and there is
                  a terrible hole
                             in the vents,
                                        or the attic,
                                                        wh­ere
                                                             ­  everything leaches out
                                                             ­                           to the colourless
                                                      ­                                                          uncreat­ed
                                                              ­                                                                 ­ nothing.

Today I wore
Ketchup and Mustard
Because I wanted to
Not everyone can do this
And get away with it
But I did it
Because I wanted to
Tomorrow is a new day
Maybe mayo or tartar
Just anything but barbecue
But it's not about my sauces
Or my meat for that matter
It's about my feelings
Bite me because im what you love

today i woke up not knowing where i
was or how to get back home,
(or if i would ever feel at home again)
because although i awake in the same
bed every day, this room is unceasingly cold
and i find myself more and more lost in these
sheets that i don't know as my own  anymore.

i had lain there for forever trying to remember
the last time i had felt comforted by sleep-
when the only thing i could find under my pillows
were nightmares about empty skies and
words that got lost in translation, i had to stop
in my tracks and reteach my self how to breathe.

i'm starting to get this awful feeling
that i'm not always going to fall asleep alone
but i'll still wake up terribly lonely.

dance me into entering waters

           (the sea)

i might dive or very cold
it is too hard(to swim

is though even steely wild
shifting ever for

                                     )

grey and grey and

(the sea)
who is steely wild
and very cold entering waters

dance me into

(and even though)