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Paul Donnell Sep 2017
Whats the point now?

When I get the falling down,
The sky follows suit.

I grew feathers and gravity flipped a *****.
The moon rose in a sick sewer fog,
Orange and,
primordial.

I touched her,
silver strings followed my fingers and played me a song.

What I mean to say is.

I opened my door and never looked back. The heart I left still beats in time upon rail road tracks thick with tar and I still feel the vibrations from here.
Two thousand seven hundred miles and suddenly I'm stretched between mountains beech trees and limestone caverns. I remember a girl with fire hair and a bus to match and I fell in love but remembered I left my heart so I left her to. Upon a bike I rode a wave a gust of air from passing pastures at mach speeds.
So I traveled more and left behind even more than that and flung myself down an arkane maw rode a boat never looked at time.
So when I get the falling down..
I grow feathers and gravity flips a *****.
Like a moth I bounce off neon light to neon light without realizing im really looking for the moon but the doors that are open promise good times pretty faces and *****.

But I get out there,
Out there in the great beyond and scatter myself into the stars and talk to each little one. and the moon watches and stays amused at her little creation laying in Gaias hair just trying to understand and grab something that makes sense and I'm almost there.

Naked in a field
drunk on a tower
sweating in sheets
and gravity flips a *****
and I slip out and I never look back.
What I mean to say is..

I walk a lot.
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
This song reminds me of all the fuzzy day dreams.
I'm obsessed with the memories,
Crystals and some christmas lights to your porch upon my bike.
The short hand soliloquy,

"Do you remember me?"

Like it'd ****** matter
the memories are battered
left upon the floor for me
the flowers wilt and birdies scream.

I listen to the moon she always speaks of you
craters on her perfect face foreshadow bombshells placed.

left alone and once again patching up my damaged head with traveling and alcohol...
cigarettes and crystal *****

Shock wave freeze frame
**** the part that eats my brain
under the sun I
strain
sweat
work
ignore
late night short circuit stacking consecutive syllables
song shift
air lift
check box claim one,
when can I
share love.
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
when I feel the twitch in my dominate hand
I know that it calls for my favorite pen
it vibrates my head and a storm starts to churn
and memories resurface and I start to burn

so I start to write to get it all out

but that leads to rage and rage leads to rain

rain leads to feeling like I'm all alone
alone starts to feel like this might be my home
but Home never was something solid and true
and of course that thought will just lead back to you
So I walk something like two thousand miles
I cover my tracks and hide all my trials

I think I died somewhere out there
so I grew a new face and my clothes they would tear

Now I click and I pop in my posthumous walk
I struggle to breath as I struggle to talk
Yes somethings shifted but the twitch it is gone
and I think I'm just searching for where I belong..
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
Im terrified of COPD
But still smoke ciggarettes like a well used chimney
Soot building up the ashes unswept
Making it to 60, probably not a safe bet.
Drinking at altitude to catch me a better buzz
Fly fish for escape from grey matter fuzz.
If everything i built came tumbling down id stand on the rubble, three feet taller and proud.
Im better at descruction self disgused as help
A parking garage where a coffee shop stood, this is progress I yell.
This is self induced stolkhome im over exposed. The apture is broken light is burning my bones.
So Paint a picture with my ashes gradients of grey
Reimagine what i am instead seeing the self hate,
And ill thank you. For all the help and the memories
But nothings really changed and ill burn the photographs and ask

Remember these?
Paul Donnell Sep 2017
If it was autumn forever the ribbions tied to the banister of your porch would still be dancing on a vibrant breeze. And in the door step stair well where i left mumbling ghosts of uncerctainty, they might still wail at three a.m. when the cool night air cast me to your warmth.

But winter came and inbetween the microcosom fabric of those ribbions ice crystals grew and shattered, winter glass shreded all the pretty things i left. The ghosts prefered the chance of you but as winter fell and you became more transparent than them, i guess they hitched themselves to the moon, just trying to visit something beautiful.
Im too ******* sappy
Paul Donnell Aug 2017
I lost my only pen and consequently lost my head
Sell my psyche .99 only once a month take me away burn everything leave me in the little box you made I'm here I'm here tell me what are my fears slowly dying of irony in a living room with prepackaged food if living is four walls well haha I'm living it up
The crescendo sounds like hey you wanna beer don't think about your fears fortisimo bounce legs grit teeth grip chair turn on the tv live bicariously try to get the experience through fire wire liars
My eyes are melting the chicken is burning  smoke alarm living spontaus combust (ie watch **** smoke **** ride the bus)
I am the walking dead the champion of keeping it down when all I want is to scream and run around
Free floyd ******* because right now writing is all I can do to not loose my ****
Paul Donnell Aug 2017
We were the little ones
Cannon ball birds that caravan the country.
Holes in our chest we plant little flowers
We always face the sun.
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