Maybe I've been out here
For close to half a year;
Or more
Adrift
Floating

If you lay on your back
(Like I have done)
You'd see that the waves
Have a pattern -
Not
Just up-and-down.

I haven't done it in a while but,
Sometimes I muster up the courage
To look into the water.
It's crystal clear usually
(My reflection is odd but endearing.)

Other times
The giant shadowy blackness
Saunters deep down in the clarity.

Out of the blue
Sometimes, I'll watch a tail fin
Circle my lifeboat.
Entranced by it's wake
I watch the sea-demon of the deep
Until it leaves.

Dark cascading whispers hide
within your serenity
from painful hours that have fallen
like leaves
in your sleep.  
If I could bury those hours
deep away from where you think
perhaps your heart would no longer suffer,
and your peace, you could keep.

Inside of a daydream or two
containing soothing moments,
I would love
to softly caress your hands
with the gladness in my heart.
I would send a smile to sit
inside the place that you call home
when your  eyes are open
and your visions
holding sharp.

I would dance upon your chest
with my naked soul,
if it would take away the painful hours
your mind continues
to be faithful to.  
Don't you know that life itself
has written your name
on everything known as me
and that I was born
to comfort you?

If she studies this shade of white any longer,
She'll probably become it.
And if She refuses any more,
Society will win, She'll become paper thin.
Thinner than her.
Thinner than him.
Thinner than all of us.
It's all that matters.
Breathing doesn't mean a thing
If it's not this painful,
Food seems to clog her mouth
And she struggles,
She struggles to chew, to breathe
Struggles to exist.
She bleeds for beauty that isn't real.
Waiting for that body to disslove in mist.
Paper thin. Paper thin.
Take me away, down the drain
Drip me down this sink like a faulty tap
Let me drink every other girl's selfish thoughts.
I want to change something,
I want to change someone, anything at all.
Paper thin. Paper thin.

Our bones were sticks,
and we grabbed 'em all together;
threw 'em in a pile,
and lit 'em all on fire.

I thought we'd
keep 'em burning,
but your shadow kept blowing out the
blues and reds and yellows.

I was
wrong.  

I thought you'd stick around
I thought you might try to have some fun,
but you left the check for next month's rent
in the mailbox;
not even on the kitchen counter.  

I was
wrong,

And now I got a tongue,
real slick,
and whiskey to chase back daggers;

red stingers, stretched and fresh,
holding in between my copious veins.