All is alone now
With the graveyards full
And the boxes of tools
Rusted and made for fools

Hastiness of the word
Pushes the mind
To create nothing
But scribble and dribble

When was there a time
In time
When death was not
Knocking at the door

And when I lay up
And let myself
Hear nothing

Never wanting
To be nothing

Admiring that dreams
Are just the steam
To take you to a place
Where you already are

Failing where love
Was supposed to be

Seeing that maybe
I was truly wrong all along

Is this doubt?
Or just
Childish
Uncertainty?

But when she presses
Her lips to mine
I know that the sweet
Taste of wine
Is not a dream but
Was just meant to be

Now I lay in the arms
Of a mind not my own
Battling towards a victory
That seems most days
Like a never ending trap

Sweet sleep
True defeat
A ****** need
One that acts
Like its own disease

But feel the naked breeze
Like a queens silken crease
All these ****** needs
Is making me think
I'm more selfish then I believe