Just because I'm in your head,
believe me love, I am not dead,
I'm waiting for my chance to strike,
I'll hit you with my madness spike.

You'll want to claw out your eyes,
Your own hands are your demise.
You'll rip out your liver and tear out your lungs.
Now my fun has just begun.

You'll run red lines down your wrists,
Still think you don't need a therapist?
Pull out your hair, bite your nails.
Run your mind through all your fails.

No one else will understand,
You are the village madman,
Your confusion is the best part.
My love, you are my work of art.

Once upon a time,
In a land far away,
A day for a dime,
Is now a dollar a day.

They thought they increased,
The worth of the dollar,
Instead the released,
Every other scholar.

Without all the knowledge,
A nation will die,
Jump off of a bridge,
Water full of their lies.

It's the circle of life,
I hope you will see,
Fall under the knife,
A knife of deceit,

As it is the end,
The final roll-call,
Goodbye, to my friends.
I won't miss you at all...

You are not a normal girl,
No one even knows,
the things you see in the night,
haunt you ever still.
Faces of the evil things,
you see throughout the day.
Torment where you lay.

~


You are different,
That you know,
All the voices tell you so,
but it's because you don't belong,
everyone still loves your song.
They don't know it's based on truth.
Not everyone can be a sleuth.

~


If they knew what you've been through,
they would not treat you like they do.
Or are people cruel, heartless monsters?
Are you a diamond in the rough?
The only one who realizes love is not enough.
Why is everyone so mean? Why are they so cruel?
They'll be gone one day,
and so will you,
eventually,
everyone disappears into the valley of the blue.

~

Death is such a scary word,
but why is it so?
Is it human fears of the unknown?
Or surely, something more.
Is it not knowing,
what lays after those rusted onyx doors?
Or having no one join you,
that you hope never do.

Close the door
Lock me in
I would never fight to win
I would never fight to live.
I will fight to die.

Drown me in your toxic flame
I want to feel your burn
I will run I will run
to the cavern in the valley

drink me down
to the ground
I want to taste the dirt

I will fight to die
I will fight to die
I have fought to die

Just an army shy
of the endless victory
we won, we won
taste the afterlife

We have fought to win
We have lost today
We have lost our lives.

When the sky is high,
and the birds are low.
I hope you find,
a place to go.

But it's not with me,
and it's not with him.
You let yourself out.
We won't let you back in.

You said goodbye,
Now walk away,
You just can't leave,
twice in one day!

You promised us,
we'd be together,
this sounds childish,
I thought we were forever.

But it's okay,
I don't want you back.
You're nothing but trouble,
repeated stabs in the back.

Fingerless gloves and peach coloured roses.
Tell me you love me before my eye closes.
I'll always love you, no matter the cost,
Of beauty and love, we'll never be lost,

(Life is the Ecstasy of Death)
Faster, faster! I need my fix.
She's in the locker, number 1046.
I know the combination off by heart.
It's not covered in graffiti, that's my art.

Spin the lock, as fast as you can.
Try to catch the gingerbread man.
Fumble, fumble, and try again.
Trip as quick as a slip of the pen.

I finally got to her,
took long enough, as it were.
Don't try to sell that she's killing me,
I'm choosing 'tween the devil and the deep blue sea.

Apparently I'm resolving a lack of affection.
I just want my euphoria injection.
Tu m'as dit de cesser avant ma mort.            (You told me to stop before I die.)
I do what I want because life's too short.

1 year, 3 months, 10 days until the end.
What keeps you glued together strong my friend?
Who keeps you company in the night?
When all you feel is the wind's bite.

Who keeps you going when it gets rough?
Who helps you up when it gets tough?
Is there someone you depend on?
Has everyone not willing, gone?

Why is it that you do not cry?
Have you never had a loved one die?
It's the toughest thing imaginable.
Well, I think you're incredible.

You're so modest, you're so nice.
Even if you beat me up once or twice.
466 days until the end.
Will you keep me strong, my friend?

And I think that your eyes
could rival the night skies  
inthe language of
brilliance and starstruck

A small smile from you
makes the wait work the view
and I love
when it's pointed at me.

Because your brilliant shyness
at any attention
(that is well deserved)
is enough to make a poet stop writi

I can feel my heart beat
in time with the pull of the curtains
and I'm pretty sure I'm not going to faint
because I've done this show six times now

and I know my lines
like they're from my favourite show
and I could do the dances
in my sleep

So why is it that
every time the lights
ts go down
I almost hit the floor

and if I drink
the worlds water
it doesn't calm my nerves
now they swim in dancing's stead

Welcome to the end times.
Welcome to the pain.
Welcome to fires, floods and droughts.
Welcome the acid rain.

Welcome more wars.
Welcome loved one's deaths.
Welcome the fact that the radiation kills you,
even if you hold your breath.

Welcome to fighting,
up and down the streets.
Welcome to, for once in your life.
Praying for something to eat.

Welcome to the end times.
Welcome to the last act.
We're all dying anyway,
that, my love, is fact.

Welcome to your final days.
Welcome home, love.
The en'times are here.
Have you had enough?

I am a shell
of a gaping hole
I cannot feel
any emotion

and I want to
I really want to
but I cannot tell anyone
I cannot tell anymore

I want to be loved
I want to be in love
but I can't imagine
anyone having the misfortune
to be
stuck
with
me

I mean why would they want to be?
anyway I have nothing to offer
I can't cook I can't clean
I cannot sympathize

I am just so alone
In a world full of people
who would love to try and understand
the vast and incomplete ramblings of my
overworked, depressed and shattered mind
that I want to just tear out of my skull with a cheese grater because **why woN'T IT JUST SHUT UP

You can sing for the summer
You can write for the fall
But for the artist
Winter, she bares no fruits at all.

Who wants to read of
a grey winter day
no one remembers to read
when the sun's gone away

the poets weep
for the snow on the ground
which is about as white
as mud, tracked around

Sure the snowflakes are different
but they all look the same
and there's too many footprints
from the children's games

yes the winter for the writer
is bleak, at best
yes the winter for the artist
puts a poet to the test