When I think of life without you
      I'd rather take my life.
            A whisper from inside
                  you better think twice.

                                 But I don't wanna listen
                                       I hate my own advice-

         Oh this life
              of men
                   and mice.

Shout out to the sky
     can anybody hear me?
              There is no answer
                    nobody loves me dearly...

         Mind remanining silent
               with a gun
                       to my head.

                            Maybe she'll finally
                                        love me
                                  when I'm dead.

.
In another world
I give smiles come down
From the constant sky,
My breath is sea spray,
My hair a net for you
And the butterfly is kin,
Not larger than me.

In another place
My name, forged with yours,
Set in light of stars,
Blasted about the heavens,
Playful as the otter in winter
And the mountains high,
So small among us.

In another dream
We wake about splendours
So grand, unruly rooks
Disappear before they judge
And all our days, rapt in love
In wove blankets of ocean
So warm because of us.

They have spent their
content of simpering,
holding their lips this
and that way, winding
the lines between
their brows. Old folks
allow their bellies to jiggle like slow
tamborines.
The hollers
rise up and spill
over any way they want.
When old folks laugh, they free the world.
They turn slowly, slyly knowing
the best and the worst
of remembering.
Saliva glistens in
the corners of their mouths,
their heads wobble
on brittle necks, but
their laps
are filled with memories.
When old folks laugh, they consider the promise
of dear painless death, and generously
forgive life for happening
to them.

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

Where the hell have I been
Gone or hiding
I wont feel bad
But i wont shine through
I wont do much for you
When im in the hallway im gone
Im invisible, a bad painting, wrong song
I havent loved myself ever before
I wouldnt buy self love if it was sold in a store
I wont message you twice, but three or four times
I wont feel a satisfying flower in my void
You wont bloom or save my world
Even if you couldnt id say no
Im happy here in misery, the same as before
So shut me down cause its all my fault
Stop it before i spell it out
Nothings held together, itll slip out like a card
On the top of the kings, on the top of my scars
If the world was ending id find a hope, light a joint and cut the rope
Would i feel happy like a mocah on a winters day
Like a fireplace in a study space
Like leaving here without a trace

Read me
like you're under the sheets
holding a quivering flashlight
reading a book Mommy told you
not to but that you told yourself that
you could.

Read me
like the paper thin news
that you strain to hear every
morning but then **** back in
disgust at when you realize its
its contents.

Read me
like the person you wish
you knew how to read and
that you want to more than just
about anything but know that really
you shouldn't.

Read me
like the dictionary on your
paint-peeling kitchen bookshelf
that is boring yet holds truths about
life that you wish with all your might
weren't true.

Read me
like you have tried so
constantly to read your
fading falling self that I say
I care so much about but you
won't listen.

Read me
like the anxious mess
that I am when I even hear
about the past I can't change
and the future I want so badly
to make better.