All this time I've thought
that I miss my old friends.

Now I realize,
I just miss the feeling
of having friends.

The sterling stream that lines my sorrows
is never within stone's throw.
How many boulders away are you, my darling?
I yearn for you to grind my heart once more.
I need you to clip it's thoughtless wings,
for they're drooping and defeated by their lasting migration.

My heart is elephantine and my wings are hopeless
and they're abusing all of me for what is believably my eternity.  
My heart is dehydrated and cotton-mouthed,
It's tongue can not satisfy, for it's fangs are before it,
serrated by the bloodshed on our floor.
I could water my floral heart,
if someone put the watering-can in my hand,
but it doesn't know how to tread tears anymore anyway.

I am not satisfied.
Nor, can I satisfy
anymore.

I'm simply coasting through shapes and figures
to pass this paused time.
I have become a clown
that does not understand mortification any longer.
It's feelings have become hidden under a white face and red lips.

My tower of prospect has been thrown to the ground,
landing where my body was planted, stuck asleep.

They all say I deserve better.
I've been searching for better,
but it broke my wings and it broke my heart
and planted me at my own crime scene
******* me.

We're a tragic
kind of magic.

My bag of bones
is undead,
but only for you.

Pulsing without a brain,
it creates movement of passion.

My bag of bones
is a zombie
that I cannot control.

...and then they fell in love.
     they say that as if they were running errands.

I have to cease.
It's not that my love has ceased.
It's just that the tenderness in my chest isn't uncut anymore
and I keep cutting the scraps loose far and wide
creating an eyesore for others to sterilize.

This has to cease
because I've put my spirit on trial
and it wound up at its breaking point.
I can't share this world with you
while her shadow lingers, panting on your collar.

I know you can't cease.
I know you can't slay a phantom.
I know that you don't fancy bruising her haunting spirit.

I wish you didn't want to bruise my spirit.
But there's an echelon of interest that I never dominated.

But it possesses all the arena that is my cranium
and the rest is made up of intoxicated words I'll never obliterate.

I know I'm not your Valentine.
But hearts were never a joyous emblem for me anyway.

So I'll leave phantoms of my presence all over your life
in hopes that you'll delete a single blushing gummy letter
written by a ghost years ago.

A place built for two with an eternally vacant cushion.

Battle your venomous creatures as I preach to the preacher creatures.

I look at the sky though my heart's been put to rest below the earth,
along with my conscience--- waiting for it's promised rebirth.

I know about forgiveness and how it's impossible to forget.
I know about mistakes, but somehow it's impossible to regret.

These are the days when my head can't find the clouds
and my batting lashes can't even black out my troubles anymore.