Just like the eyes that have the time
to ride away in the night. . .

My mind has its own life.

I know my heart as a way with words
But I feel, oh so lost and left open.
It makes me want the dark to be inside of the day.
To be inside my little home on the ****** end of fall.
Remember what the blackness will write for you, man.

****.

Did you at last lose the long lost memory of my face?
Did it open your soul into a world of sweet wonders full of distaste?
Or did the light really have to die
to give you anymore of the life that you thought you need.

Sky! Take my hands!
God! Will you lie for real this time
and at least try and make the dead smile.

For it has been days and days of looking at the sun,
scratching my head, standing in the doorway feeling like death.
Feeling like someone with that broken thought, going over and over the strange hollow things that love to watch these trees bring you back outside.
To tell of our sour love; curdled into hate, forever as I slowly take back my hand and leave my body to dream and speak of the times that are soon to change into a solid blood red.
Then watch me change so beautifully into the unknown ghost
that is floating around this falling room.

This ****** up place, is far more blue than my memory of hell.

Maybe I should kiss the stars.
Maybe I should hold onto the morning; alive.
Maybe I should believe and stay to write
then stop today and live seven more lies.
Before I sleep,
Before I forget the truth,
Before I remember what the stars saw
on that cold screaming ground.
You will guess out loud.
You will dream of a moon underground
You will wish for better years
and for the memories to burn like all their wicked lives
through your tears.

Maybe before you start to push, they will move.
But don't you ******* start to rely on wishful thinking.

Tonight a breath of heavy air
will come out of the closed eyes.
The words will rain down like the holy green
that can sense the question and breathe and then wish upon a song.
To close the angels lips tonight.
The ones who dare to complete their turn and feel the moment,
Like the skin does.
While I lose pieces of my soul as I run across this great big white teethed earth.
My house will start to creep up out of the darkness
and my feet will live deep in the living hair of our mothers dirt.
It is a true sight of pure gold to leave the city untold and not to be still stuck in the grey mold.
It is best that I got the fear and lie awake, waiting to hear this story of the girl in pain.

Just **** your past and fall into the hope that burning alive will completely save you from mothers waves

and then watch them standing around. . .
They knew you - they were waiting in the stealing pines
They were waiting until they could understand
The slow clouds that are rolling out of your dying mouth.

For peace from God is what you seek,
now close your eyes to the sun and run. . .

*Take the fall.