Dreams
Endure,
And
Time
Hangs.

It's kind of funny.
I see all these girls,
Beautiful girls,
Perfect hair,
Perfect body,
Perfect skin,
Talk of pain.
Write of pain.
Cry of pain.

But what of pain
Do they really know?
Don't love me,
They say,
I am broken-
I am insignificant-
I have walls-
And every man
Falls into their hand
Like they planned,
I suppose.

It angers me,
You see, for

I am lacking
Perfect hair,
A perfect body,
And perfect skin.
I talk of pain.
I write of pain.
I cry of pain but,

I am alone.

The soul lost his body, after going into the cave
and discovering everything. In the middle of traffic its
body fell but its soul didn't, and the soul dubbed cloaks
and masks because it could still wear those, and because it was
afraid, it didn't know what had happened.

Researchers took what the soul had found- a vile of a
mystery substance and something else, which was
dropped and lost in the mud. they called the substance
magic.

A researcher found proof of actual angels so he took
a few people in to experience it. Put a drop of magic
on their tongues and turned off the lights- (3 people,
he had brought) and had them take pictures of an old
slideshow going through photographs of faces and
silhouettes so fast you couldn't even see them. The
film was old cinema.

The first person's pictures were blurry, but
showed white blurs behind people's backs, in
the shape of wings.

My photos were of precise
and clear faces, the same white blur behind
their heads. (The face of the man the most important,
stands out as dearest in my head.)

The third person's photos were supposed to be
the best, but they were lost in the same mud,
with a cat pawing them in.

Undermining one's
Self is almost
Effortless.
Lethal injections
Easily ******,
Such a
Silent surrender.

I saw a ghost on a fogged up window.
I saw a man with a gun in his hand.
Both are red,
One is just less transparent.

Hey here I am again
Breaking,
Falling to the ground again
Wishing that someone would help me up.
But of course no one hears
My silent cries of help
So I sit here,
Broken.

Take me back four summers ago,
Where the sun shined brighter and
Dreams alighted from my tongue like
Fireflies in the twilighted distance,
Because unrequited love can be beautiful
Like I've never been.

I still remember.
Even if my name but a memory long forgotten,
My heart molded to the shape of a hand
I'd never hold, but that didn't matter.
It was a silent and sad surrender,
A bittersweet but beautiful blunder.