Another sunset tries to survive, as it drifts beneath the earth and dies

The dreary dawn awaits for it's alter ego to stumble through the night
In theory gone, she baits the line, and casts our soul into another fight
A leery pawn, a game of fates, it's time to know, what feels just right
An eerie yawn, opens the gates, the perfect dream walks into the light

The sunrise comes with haunting cries, shining down on tearful eyes
Darkened skies remind last night's broken promises are Today's lies

Thieving Gray clouds shade the grounds as my head pounds and Throbs
Weaving Stray crowds of worried rats scurried about chaotically to Jobs
Leaving an unbearably noxious musk wafting throughout the surly Mobs
Deceiving another day until the dusk comes lofting like a thief and Robs

The morning's glory, came and went, and not a moment too soon
The mayhem and the havoc hellbent, clamoring to stay high noon
Tensed sheople just making life's rent, until the stars begin to croon
Incensed at the blanket time we spent, chasing the tranquil moon

With motivation so fragile and ever fleeting
like the bumbling male’s chances of meeting ...

In real life for a coffee, drinks, maybe dinner
She looks different from her pictures, thinner?
They drank enough to let the guards within her
Down until that Sunday morning original sinner
Came around, and only a priest can be a winner

Somewhere, amongst the debris
of cigarettes after ***,
chemicals to induce sleep,
I forgot what it means to love.

I forgot what it means to breathe,
to sit still, and just be.

Somewhere, beneath these hooded seams
of solitude and well-versed grief,
beats a heart less cynical,
less tamed by vague distraction.

My nervous ticks and bad habits,
line of best fit for a near-hit
of satisfaction:

This is not enough, I know.
This is not nearly enough
to cool the bray of life
that still rattles meaning in my bones.

I forgot what it means to love,
what separates a house from a home.

Somewhere beyond this thirst
for brand-new words
is a gratitude for all that has been.
Every cliché holds a truth.

Every sentiment, a cocoon,
that I should lie so still inside

until I am wholesome,
until I am new.

Smiling while the Earth breaks around me,
its covered in shadow,
with little light trying to show,
I say to myself, "this should be a new low"
as fire erupts around me, beautiful chaos, like a mind after a line of blow,
but the darkness tries to take,
it tears and my mind it tries to ****,
but a little light tugging at my side,
forcing the darkness to run and hide,
the wind is rich and full of electricity,
my soul along its edges have burned,
I love the fact that I love you, even if it's not returned.

Smiling through the chaos.

1764

The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
  The maddest noise that grows,—
The birds, they make it in the spring,
  At night’s delicious close.

Between the March and April line—
  That magical frontier
Beyond which summer hesitates,
  Almost too heavenly near.

It makes us think of all the dead
  That sauntered with us here,
By separation’s sorcery
  Made cruelly more dear.

It makes us think of what we had,
  And what we now deplore.
We almost wish those siren throats
  Would go and sing no more.

An ear can break a human heart
  As quickly as a spear,
We wish the ear had not a heart
  So dangerously near.