I'm uncomfortable
Anxious
And I don't know why
I don't know what is wrong
But I can't fix it

I walk this empty road
I know not where I am going
And I forget from whence I came
And I am glad

I am glad for solitary emptiness
The radio is naught but static
I have music around, but I hate it
It makes me remember

These wonderful ruins
This beautiful decay
I relish my thoughts
Even I do not understand them

Sometimes I see another wanderer
I see the trail left behind
The art and the terror
And I pity

This end is just a beginning
This death is my life
For some, this is hell
But heaven is a state of mind

there are worse dreams than nightmares. you know those dreams where you wake up and you're a little off center and uneasy for the rest of the day. where the dream follows you around, but it's very subtle. hiding behind corners and behind peoples' faces. it could be a word that triggers you into remembering it. and it makes you sick, but you don't know why. it's like something was stolen. something small and insignificant and you could easily live without it, but you miss it nonetheless. these dreams terrify me more than any nightmare could.

I often build the house we could live in
With massive windows and towering ceilings
And an odd arrangement of candles that I'm so fond of
And you'll never see it but
That's ok.
And I do it all the hard way.
Because that's the truth about us.
It's hard and it won't ever happen but if it did
God wouldn't that be something

You slipped out of my hands,
Glass shattering on the ground,
Spred out into a million pieces,
You and me,

Polar opposites that no longer attract,
And two contents drifting away from each other,
The cold water in between,
That not a sole would to dip their toes into,

For you were shy,
and I was just me.