When I lay in my bed,
Alone in the dark,
You enter my head.

Questions raise,
But every time,
The answer sinks so much lower.

I can't help it,
By the simple gesture of pushing me into traffic.
That most call life.

I was but a small child,
In physical,
And state of mind.

Did it bother you?
Maybe, maybe not,
Seeing that you went right to it.

I am hypnotized,
I want to snap out.
Desensitized to the thought of us.

Then after,
No words.
Hurt.

I tried to reach you,
But you turned the other way.
Are you not sure, or am I just not welcome to stay?

So I see you around,
From time to time,
And what do I do?

I invent my excuses,
And stay away from you.
But unfortunately(?)

This is not goodbye.

Precious star,

we will meet again,
we will, we will

the grass is growing on your bed
sunken earth, resting inside clenched fist

you are coming to me in shades of echos
lost inside years of
atomosphere
(we are skies away)

I've harbored your ****** skin underneath
this new stare you made me

warped light
sun rays in your collected chest
hold me, like I should have

console me while sitting in trees, im looking at just the bark
pressing palms to feel
you whisper
something only trees know

remind me to laugh when I can not sleep
worried worried awake about things that won't matter when we forget to breathe again

walk beside me and assuage me from the danger you didn't know about,
I will revel inside the lines

keep sparking like flames
tangled in my line of vision
knotted in air, woven suddenly
and then untie your self again

because I hope youre

waiting for me, I am waiting

to sink into you

to tell you,

I miss you.

Stop showing
You love me
A little at a time.

Stop saying
You care
Bit by bit.

Stop keeping
Me here
For tiny pieces of time.

Because I need
All of you
Not piece by piece.

I love
All of you
Not just some parts of you.

So love all of me
All the way
All the time.

Or let all of me go
All at once
For good.

I remember a time when time was just a number,
where the only times where school and dinner.
When I didn't have to grow up to be what I want,
but I could act it out in a secret lair or a parking lot.
As you become old, they try to rid you of you imagination,
well I say nay as I fly my submarine in a train station.
You know what take my wallet, live my life,
because I am a ninja hiding in the night.
Go ahead, try and catch me if you can,
Big old stupid corporate man.
You might be sophisticated and civilized,
so what, I am a 50 foot spider that can freakin' fly!

When I first sold myself there were
black cottons, brass buttons, iron crosses, steel machines
All the marks of war
All that searing heat
With all that pretty malice
Spilling Paris in the street
‘Twenty marks’ I called
‘Twenty marks’
That was 1943
And Piaf was doing well

Nurse, do you know what it is like:
To have a man inside of you
that you could never love?

There was, once upon a time, a pretty little ****
black cottons, brass buttons, iron crosses, steel machines
Lying on my floor
And Maman was starving, and my sister, too
Dignity wasn’t half the tax it seemed before
He gave me a baby, and a disease,
That was 1944:
Piaf was quite successful, then

Doctor, can you fathom:
Having sores all over you?
Yes, down there, and
all up and down your thighs, your body burns.
Can you feel that?

Then, the Germans left, and the Allies came, all
black cottons, brass buttons, iron crosses, steel machines
All of that decor
Fleeing, running out
On the French horizon
Retreat
The Allies were the same
‘Three dollars’ I called
‘Three dollars’
That was 1945:
Piaf was languishing
Paris had died

Jacques, my dear:
Those were our times
smoky cabarets, sculptured croons, fine wines
your rifle on your back could wind my morning with worry
and with my scourges, you took me all the same
but what I remember is:
black cottons, brass buttons, iron crosses, steel machines
then:

nothing

“Monsieur Boursin - she has passed.”

He sobs,
it sounds like
war.

It's hard to get your heart at ease when your brain doesn't seem to rest
The would've been, has been, and could've beens take over any sense of tranquility that your mind had its eyes set on and destroy the reality of the paths your feet walk on.
Everything is distorted.
Lies become the most prevalent form of communication, leaving reality to become the downfall of our nation.
Let freedom ring, there's no truth to what's been sung, because we're trapped in our minds and we can't even run.
Succumbing ourselves to the limitations of the norm, we fail to succeed in the destiny put forth to us by the only Man that really matters.
We pretend that whats already been written for us is really our own to write, turning our destiny and our fate into our own demise.
It's hard to sleep when you know your brain is wide awake, plotting the steps you were never meant to take.

They are strangers now, separated by their worlds and walls.
There is no chemistry, no spark, nothing special.
They are simply strangers, sharing a couch.

One is autumn, one is spring;
one likes talking, and the other? Listening.

If walls could talk, they’d weave a tale so tragic.

In the beginning, he was sun, and she was moon.
At the ending, she was running, but he was leaving.

In the beginning, there are many things.
There is music, and laughter, and broken strings.
They have cooperation, and commitment, and promises.
Her mom gives them glasses, his mom gives them dishes.
She has her charcoals, he has his guitar.

At the ending, close to the ending-
There is his guitar, her laughter, they’ve broken things.
And that is all that is left.

Promises and glasses, dishes and hearts.
A year of trying and losing is written on the walls;
the wallpaper- peeling, the curtains- ripping.

He clears his throat, she stills- hoping.
“I’m sorry,” she hears, and it’s okay.
“I’m sorry,” she hears, “that it’s ended this way.”

I’m sorry, she hears. I’m sorry, that it’s ended this way.
I’m sorry, she hears. That it’s ended this way.

“It’s ended this way?”
“I’m ending it this way.”