bruises, contusions.
i live a life of illusions.

i box with shadows day and night,
my life is a never ending fight

of the self.

i stand on the edge,
but lean towards the elms

to try to teeter,
but only totter.

one side or the other,
will i fall
or will i falter?

i love,
but i will never surmount.

oh, how i've lost thought of
all the ivory i am,
and all the gold you've become.

my supply of you is endless,
different mold, my bursts are trendless.

i'll take you and bathe you in my self-thought, assumed glory.

i am in love with beings i find precious,
and if i find my heart senseless,
melt and begin again.

perhaps it's all pretend,
my love doth not end

i'll be screaming to no avail.
i am of ivory
and my
gold impales.

born in a storm,
i was dying.
perhaps that's why my tears rain down-
no, that's just crying.

"but mom, i'm always trying!"
my soul's fighting for you,
so i can keep living life,
although i'm lying.

and all though no one's buying:
i promise,
i'm always trying.

my soul's fighting for you,
but i'm still dying.

rest in peace,
boy of feather and fleece.
leave the world,
your pain will not cease.

you carry coffins
like jagged mountains of knives in your back.

to your death you'll take,
your soul that breaks
whenever you get up in the morning