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There are places where my heart ripped out of my chest by my hands in a fit of clarity , i yearned to see what kept me alive, with blood dripping from my fingertips and splashing onto my coat in artistic nonchalance the beat, beat , beat , of my only heart the beat , beat , beat , of my time keeper the beat , beat , beat , drip , drip , drip , silent watcher of ****** functions seeping onto the floor are the unwritten lines that flow into vein like patterns, as if the blood tries to reach the sea, only backwards - the pool spreads around my feet away the streams run criss crossing like rivers from a plane oxtail islands form with inlets that lead to dead end forests that spring up spontaneously on either side of the waters flow get lost in the forest - only to find more forest twinkling lights of skies dawn appear in the slipstreams and mountain ravines form slowly , valleys carved from the still beating ***** i wrap the contents in a plastic bag and put it in my coat pocket so maybe i’ll remember that i’m beating my drum to my final beat which will ring out - oh patient heart oh , oh , oh , peaceful heart full of yearnings for untainted love untouched , touched by malice touched by dandelions drifting seeds oh patient heart fill up your lungs with night falls dew point air , and falling stars falling still into my eyes that explode with the light of a million suns they burn. they burn. they burn. without the embers of loves hope i would surely stop right now slide the knife into the flesh hope for the best what a wicked thing to do - to make me dream of you the fall the thunderstruck tower of loves , loves touch send shivers up my spine and into the neuron pathways of tickled pink touches and strange worlds open up synapse exchange - electronic turns chemical and back again all too soon lightning flashes without thunders encore dappled light hits the spiders hammock old ladies weave their dried up tears into jumpers grandmas and grandpa’s their stories outshines the children they bear what burden to carry on the shelf of self.
0
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
Untitled
There are places where my heart ripped out of my chest by my hands in a fit of clarity , i yearned to see what kept me alive, with blood dripping from my fingertips and splashing onto my coat in artistic nonchalance the beat, beat , beat , of my only heart the beat , beat , beat , of my time keeper the beat , beat , beat , drip , drip , drip , silent watcher of ****** functions seeping onto the floor are the unwritten lines that flow into vein like patterns, as if the blood tries to reach the sea, only backwards - the pool spreads around my feet away the streams run criss crossing like rivers from a plane oxtail islands form with inlets that lead to dead end forests that spring up spontaneously on either side of the waters flow get lost in the forest - only to find more forest twinkling lights of skies dawn appear in the slipstreams and mountain ravines form slowly , valleys carved from the still beating ***** i wrap the contents in a plastic bag and put it in my coat pocket so maybe i’ll remember that i’m beating my drum to my final beat which will ring out - oh patient heart oh , oh , oh , peaceful heart full of yearnings for untainted love untouched , touched by malice touched by dandelions drifting seeds oh patient heart fill up your lungs with night falls dew point air , and falling stars falling still into my eyes that explode with the light of a million suns they burn. they burn. they burn. without the embers of loves hope i would surely stop right now slide the knife into the flesh hope for the best what a wicked thing to do - to make me dream of you the fall the thunderstruck tower of loves , loves touch send shivers up my spine and into the neuron pathways of tickled pink touches and strange worlds open up synapse exchange - electronic turns chemical and back again all too soon lightning flashes without thunders encore dappled light hits the spiders hammock old ladies weave their dried up tears into jumpers grandmas and grandpa’s their stories outshines the children they bear what burden to carry on the shelf of self.
just some musing not too deep , just some musing i feel , and it's simple. i tell no lie. i tell no lies. i tell no lie, only made up stories in the darkness of just come night fall
Fah
Written by
Fah
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
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