there is such depth within his dark eyes
a depth so far when i reach out nothing touches
i will wait for the sound when i drop a rock
and i will sit there quietly for days
looking down his pupils
like sitting at a well without water without end
his image ripples at the edge and faintly i will notice
that it isnt him at all
that the rock will never land but always fall

viscous tears thick with love
a beauty so deep it bruises
transcendent and divine
the fire's release calling gently
caught entranced by the flames of immolation
heavy and profound
burning in your gaze

inexplicably unavoidable
please be kind to me for i am not strong
although i know you are unable
and by that i mean that you refuse
im sorry youre not someone else
im sorry you are you

it will be a piecemeal process wont it
perhaps its just the way that i am feeling
i know tomorrow will be different (or will it?)
but that does not make this nothing

it is tempting to make the cut
is it worth it when its always proven wrong
but i am scared
will the damage mend
or perhaps should i say will i care

at what point is history enough
when do i decide to take the jump
and should i consider the climb down instead
and by climb i mean getting dashed against the cliffside
and by cliffside i mean the wooden box of ticket stubs
where i awake in tears because she said that it was normal
but this was not the first time
and by that i mean if i were to break the curfew
where would i go if not straight back to here

inaction is a choice
i hope i will not stand so paralyzed in spring
id like to think its simply winter frost come early
but dependency has cuffed me

the expanse found between solid bones
a cavity so fatal it makes me wonder should i even bother
is my energy better spent if i just let it die
or should i **** it faster
should i even try to stay alive

i only wish to tell you
the things i cannot say
its not that its a secret
its just that i am physically unable
and so i remain
forever aching to convey the unconveyable

soar blue skies
more to find
taste this sort of hue

you don't miss
sight fronted
sword's flight quick show

torn to life
you want it so
heaven or make some

chronically perched he crouches on my shoulders digging into skin only resting when my thoughts become dreams when my mind has left reality behind, is it reasonable to believe i have a chance, is it just cruel to hope for survival when the existence is so visceral and i am brought to ruin by a glance