Now darling, please,
Won't you bury your armor,
and let your shield down.
Your walls are to high,
for me to climb.
Like a wave, crush it,
what poisons your mind.

Now darling, please,
Let go of your worries,
they can only bring you harm.
Your shadows are too dark,
for me to see.
Your mask, hide it,
and show me those scars.

Now darling, please,
Let me take you home,
to the place only you and I know.
Your heart is too heavy,
for me to know.
My hand, take it,
and I'll lead you through.

Lost in dreams and fantasy
I love it when real life becomes a reflection of me
To see myself in so many ways
I love the beginnings of permanent change

Like getting to the best part at the end of a chapter
The present keeps me from worrying what may come after
And it may be great, and amazing, and fine
Or it could be lame, and a complete waste of time

But I'll deal with this thing, and the rest as they come up
I feel stoic, heroic, ready, and tough
Bring on the challenge
I'll show you what I'm made of

It's times like these that I feel alive
Maybe it's because I've never been afraid to die
It's hello's that I struggle with
But I've never had trouble saying goodbye

It all reminds me of this one time
Where my whole family went along for a ride
And my dad ran a red light
And we all almost died

My mom had a mock heart-attack
And my sister, she cried
My brother got angry
And my father was silent

And I just laughed and laughed
Hysterically so
Because to die you first have to be alive
And it felt so good to know

I was probably twelve years old
But I can still recall the effect
It seems all of the times I remember most clearly
Are the times I came closest to death

But now I remember feeling so stuck in life
And letting emptiness take control
Going to work was an hour long drive
I spent it wishing for the credits to roll

Directed by the world
The setting was hell
Special thanks to my mother
Guest starring myself

I'd like to thank the academy
And the rest of the cast
"I look forward to the future"
And to leaving the past

I saw it all
Superimposed over the rest
A slow pan out from my car
As I drove into sunset

But it didn't end there
And it's not over yet
I'm still alive and kicking
Don't you forget

Did you have to work for your indifference
Or has it always come naturally
Because you're unnaturally calm
In the face of this catastrophe

Is one born with apathy
Or is it a lack of something else
Do you even have the capacity
To analyze yourself?

Do you have, at least, the tenacity
To process what you've felt
Because if I were you tonight, I think
I'd be foaming at the mouth

I said hello like I thought you'd notice (you didn't)
and for once I didn't feel like repeating myself.
*******, you helped me notice all the things I hated,
all the things I loved.
Kept me wanting change.
Detoxification of thought,
purification of the soul.

You speak in sentences that are based on creative-product output,
it seems you don't care if you make sense or not, 'cause nothing in
this world is trying to fit to you.
So, why try and fit to it?
Or at least that's what I perceive you to think.
I guess we could think better of each other in a healing space
if we're all touching each other with good intentions.

Yet it seems these fingers that reach you can't heal in the way they intend,
'cause this nervousness is stemming from the inappropriate feelings that root themselves
from my core. **** love, **** this feeling.

I want a love that doesn't make me wrong in someone else's eyes,
much less my own.  **** this feeling.

*******, you are beautiful.
You are something else,
someone that would smile at the thought that
this is about you.
*******, I can't stop saying the same things.

Keep me close, I've crept out of my hole
and I can't stand it alone.
I haven't even touched my water colors.

Too afraid to poison you with the truth,
too afraid to taint what is beautiful.

**** this feeling.
I want to.
**** this feeling.

This song is for you
As are all the notes
Do you have a clue
Of what our future holds

We could make it together
And forever it would be bright
I could hold you close
Throughout each and every night

But some things just aren't meant to be
And I'm not that into monogamy
We have our own separate lives to lead
Two very different destinies

But still, it's nice
To think about you twice
And daydreaming a little
Before moving on with life

Young hearts screaming
yet silence remains,
Unshed tears are streaming
while all love evaids

Clean souls are tainted
as true hatred shades,
The cruelty of smiled painted
while never-ending pain fades

In the light of the darkness
an animal is born,
True beauty filled with starkness
memories of pain never forlorn


Pure evil inside fighting to flee
Dreams of peace will never be

how could You know
as You are walking down the sidewalk
           around a corner       wherever You want
that the world is not assembling itself
atom by sticky atom
from the blueprints
piled in piles (like so many piles of newspaper)
in (the rooms in) the back rooms of Your mind
particles rushing and streaming, fluttering
together with the ebb of Your consciousness?
-
the World blurs fuzzily into shape
before snapping
(snappily)
into focus

just as You enter the room
blending pixilated reality smoothly
into an orchestrated Existence
-
the next time You      reach
for the doorknob on
the door to
the waiting room
-
give
pause
listen            
carefully
-
can’t You hear the anxious atoms
           scraping
sliding
           shoving past each other?
-
they                jockey
       jumping into
the eye of
       the image of
the woman on
       the screen of
the television in
       the corner of
the ceiling where
       it hangs
-
she wants to know
why we divide
Them              from Us
-
so clearly
so readily
-
she wants to know
why our countries
are bordered
-
by an indifference to equality
by a contempt for disillusionment
-
A dispute broke out between two
atoms on the table this morning;
a tiny china teapot was broken.
-
how would You know?
people are no more
then elaborate pieces of Your own mind
now once You hang up the phone
e v a p o r a t e d  
                        into no more than
                                           an afterthought
                                                    ­     of empty space
                                                           ­         -
                                             the smell of burnt matches
                             -                                      -
                You think that
everything You imagine is beautiful
                    even death
                             -
               but in an ugly way
-                            -
the man on the
                                edge
of the third chair
from the door
has no face
(none of Them do)
all of Them don’t
(have faces)
-
until They speak or You look Them in the eye
-
until They do something       Wrong
which is why They look                  down
when They walk down the sidewalk
-
They are afraid
-
to live
  as a tree
    in the park
-
where a pillar of
angry
           energy
                       falling
failing
           the
                       pessimistic
sky
might strike
Them
(older than You
yet born
just this moment)
making the ground
around
Them steam
with the sweat
of a silent room
waiting
for the
            door to
                        swing open
                                      and tell
                                                   him
                             -               -
                she’s going to be all right
              it was close there for a while
                        but she’s strong
                      she pulled through
                                      -
                              in the end
-                                     -
the pressure
of the years
of the rings
(which promise to
grow tighter
as time leaves us)
is heated
squeezed
left sitting in
flesh
turned to char
ash and smoke gently
cradling a tiny newborn
diamond
-
perfect           (silence)
-
broken
down the middle-
                      aged
                             flawed
-                                -
You should be perfect by now
You should have a face by now
-
speak           look Yourself in the eye
-
see Your own          Face
stop looking                down
when You walk down the sidewalk
-
don’t be afraid
-
to live
  as a tree
    in the park
-          -
They say don’t talk             to strangers
and You’re a strange one            indeed
how can You see the glamour
where Others            cannot
see that laughing quietly to themselves
can (You) set the expressions on their faces
to joy
     to pain
           to fear
                to apathy
                     to peace?
                              -
              yeah, she likes him
                and she likes him
                        to know
               that she likes him
                              -
                      in the end
-                             -
she wants to know
why our countries
are bordered
-
to keep Them      out
and Us       in
-                                   -
           this is Mine                  and that is Yours
-                                   -
You see
what You want to see (without)
-
(knowing what You want)
the sticker
       on the bumper
              of the car
                     rolling past reads:
                           “jesus is coming,
                                  hide the ****”
-                                          -
in its green lettering
and its largely silent voice
-
if You listen             carefully
You can almost hear Them
-                  -
              giggling
                ­   -                       -
              please do not think about green elephants
-                                          -
(a student just snuck in
and sat down as
the professor was writing
on the board)
-                                       -
             please do not feed the green elephants
-                                       -
I
Myself
have a strong suspicion
that Your mind is
as You read this
(hidden in a carefully cupped notebook)
spilling
black ink particles into
existence
on the very next          page
-                              -
             ­       You write that
You imagine everything is beautiful
                    except for death
                                 -
                   it is an ugly thing
                                    -
               yet still the chisel gouges
                  -               -
  “i whistle a catcall
at my blushing bride”
      llac ot eltsihw i”
  “edis ym ot god ym
                  -        -
        through the crumbling protests
         of the reluctant stone
                               -    -
                     ­               each new line
                                    tampers with space
                                    holds suspect time
                                    postpones the end
                                    and evades death
-                                  -
You breathe
               You write
You sing
                You live
                       -
You casually craft causality
         -             -
         yet craft on
         surely You are not yet done
         You may never be
         at this rate but
         but
         STOP
-        -
the World reblurs then blows away
listen closely here I say
all things must come to end one day
-                                       -
You
Yourself

have tasted the                     hunger
                        of Greed
seen the                                 wealth
                       of Hatred
heard the                               stories
          ­             of Genocide
felt the                                    loss
                     ­  of War
and smelled the                    decay
                       of Truth
-                      -
                      this        ­     is Mine
                                 what’s Mine, is Yours...