Keep saying you don't want it
I like when you lie
Keep saying you dont want it
I like when you cry

My little snowglobe
Love to shake you up
Then watch the chaos inside

Do you hate me yet
Yeah, it's better this way
You hate me, yet
You still let me stay

My little snowglobe
Does it hurt your ears
When I tap on the glass
Arguing in the car last night
My foot ******* the gas
Probably shouldn't drive so hard
When it's raining so fast

My little snowglobe
Did it hurt when you cracked

It hurt me too
It hurt me too
It hurt me too

I want you back

I peered into the future and saw
Possibilities dancing in semi-reality
like snowflakes beneath a stormy sky.
But the one before us was clear
as ice upon the frosted curved glass.

A madness has spread among
the countless peoples of the world.
A disease of the mind which makes it seem
to the sick man as if they are made

of glass. A fragile thing, so
frail and delicate they might break
upon any but the softest impact.
The afflicted, day and night, scream in fear

at any possible contact harder
than the lightest touch.
“I’ll break”, their blood-chilling screams
echo through the empty halls of history.

The world has broken in this future
like a music-box wound down to

silence. Men and women hide in
padded chambers, for fear of breaking
their porcelain forms upon a pavement
or stones a toddler could step over.

A cure for the glass does not exist,
save for a light tap to show the ill
that they are more than they believe.
Yet the sick would rather not be healed

than face the reality of their own resilience.
The world cannot hurt you, my friend,
but you yourself can hurt the world
and shatter it like a crystalline snowglobe.

she was not chained, but tangled
in the fur of his kisses or the stickyness of his glances
it turned her fingertips red and made her eyes squeeze
their world was a tropical snowglobe with a little boat that tumbled around their sky
and she lapped against the plastic like a tide
looking up at him with forgiving eyes.

I can remember just fine,
All those things that I hold dear.
What I cherish, what I yearn for,
What I imagine
Spins and swirls in my mind,
Like glitter falling in fragile snowglobe.
But it falls.
It falls until you pick it up again
And you shake it,
And it's wonderful.

I can remember all my dreams,
I want so badly to watch them live
And spin and swirl all around.
But,
What if they're stuck?
Stuck inside that glass globe,
And all they do is spin and swirl
And fall.

I'm not sure what I'm holding on to,
I can't see past my eyes,
Not anymore,
There's no taste,
When the senses meet my tongue

i walked in not knowing
the storm that would soon be blowing
outside my little bubble
i was deeply in trouble
and when i was inside
it was the perfect place to hide
but not a perfect place to be

A 'feeling'

                'clouds'

                            ­  over me

I try to find the words
to match it,
   a phrase
     that agrees with the emotion
       and search the metaphor
         to portray the image

It fights for my attention
    this 'feeling'
  and I battle with it
       for a time
It does not waver
      until I submit
I slump, defeated sometimes
       sitting with my pen

Now may not be convenient
      but 'now' is the time,
    
           apparently!!

I offer
  'patience'
and the rhyming story
  is permitted to unfold

        and be told.

As I sit
  the words and phrases
    are no longer jumbled

        they're calm ..

            and settle ..

    like tiny

                white

                     glittering flakes

            within a snow globe

its the feeling of goosebumps rattling your skin
pressing to be seen, it's chilling
camouflage to try and grip the cold dancing between your strands of hair
in an instant
they back off
but i remember when I tried to shy them because I didn't want you to see that my skin was expressing that the cold was ******* my senses
stay cool, I reminded me, giggling at the irony that hung in the air, but now that reminds me why where we are now is so surprising
because in that night there was no lightening or frightening arrays of the future fighting because in that night our smiling was blinding
I remember the way my heart rattled my ribcage forcing to be heard
forcing to say what I couldn't put into words as I sat there staring at the individuals strands of hair that you kept pushing behind your ear
and the way your shoulders softly pushed the air up to notice that the focus of the night was the world above us
reminding you to look up at the violent battle of elements yet discovered, but uncovered and smothered by the atmosphere to be the picture that hovers above our cloud cover



I wan't to bottle that night up, a snow globe with stars instead of snow
but no the edges of the world pulled up and so, the show finally came to a close when the ocean and earth came crashing over the curtains
and im running caught in a cycle of the cyclical monotony of suffocating monogamy, im not ready so im making this rut to house a violent flow of all this **** you don't know.