Ask me about the first day,
And I'll let you know.
Ask me about the last day.
Just try asking.

I watched.
I watched it all.
Because I feel the pain in everything.

And I drank it all away,
I thought I was waterproof.
And I let it all go to flames.
Though, I knew I wasn't fireproof.

Life on edge is no longer for the thrill.
No need to ask me twice.
Life on edge is no longer a risk.
No need to ask at all.

**** me before you thrill me,
I can't take anymore.
**** me before you thrill me,
I can't love you anymore.

i'm trying so hard to keep from you
what i hope you do not know
that like the rain, the sun at night,
and the movement of the snow,
i am the drops, the largest star,
and the coldest month of all
you've kept me on the edge,
but now to you, for you, i fall

Wounded fragments of shattered dreams stain the pavement and sidewalks while we all move in a pattern unknown and unseen.
Poised perfectly in the sky are the ends of strings that pull us along, and we follow, apathetic to the vile disgrace of not being in control.
The sun neither rises nor falls, we circle around to have him stare at us with curious and diminished eyes.
The stars wink and shine like diamonds in a fog, long after their reign has ended and their souls have departed.

Half forgotten synapses and faded photographs are the pinpoint of realization in the half written tragedy and comedy of man.

Can we feel the shattered slice into our feet? Do we drink of the cup of color or our we drowning ourselves in a cesspool of grey?
Frayed and patched we are.
The wolf is ignorant while the sparrow is enlightened. They chase each other. Dream by dream, thought by thought, reaction by action, into the depths of our souls. Neither can triumph over the other and perhaps that is the design. Blueprints hidden carefully by an architect far beyond comprehension of morality and sustenance are the makings of an encore, a time for roses after the curtain falls.
For none can know the beauty and mystery behind the short circuit of synapse and the ceasing of beats.
Perception of dimensions beyond us our limited and jaded, causing lies disguised as truth. Fear of the mystery causes fear of us all. We are all that is here. We are the tourniquet and we are the axe.

Oh child of wonder… Oh traveler of distance. See us all.

We are two sides of a spinning coin. We are everything and we are nothing. Perhaps the strings will be cut. We will overcome the misfortune of breathing in that which is farthest from the truth. Be the crack in the pattern. Be the narrow path.

Be better than us.