Amy speaks to me sometimes,

reminds me of the losing game that I’m playing:

I’ve put in all my coins, gambled all I could call mine

and she shakes her head but keeps her silence.

There are no rules, she knows this

it’s all in or nothing,

and she watches me give everything.

I resurrect every ghost to make me bleed,

and tear open this skin for meaning,

but what is the value of hollowed bones and haunted dreams?

How many revolutions until your words lose your voice?

How many revolutions until the sun burns my hands away from your eyes

so you can finally see the light?

I lost the heart in a wager for yours

only to return with empty palms

and another phantom shackled in the mind

that patrols the lock-up, and the whip comes down

at every clink of ball-and-chain – no prisoner stands a chance to escape.

How odd that every lash on the prisoner,

you’ll find on my wrist, on my back, on my neck;

how odd that every movement is a punishment;

how odd that you don’t see the manacles

I’ve bound myself with.

the skies have poured out their blue

and something about the way they do

reminds me of what I did to you.

but you knew I was no good;

you’d felt it on my skin and in the hollows of my knuckles,

as if my words weren’t enough.

the going always gets tough –

this chronic rollercoaster, where neither of us

can hang on until the end of the ride,

this terrible love we keep walking,

you’re stumbling and I’m never talking

I don’t know what it means anymore.

it’s just us on the kitchen floor

wondering which was deadlier:

the knives or the fire.

we’ll pretend I’m not a liar

and that you’re not losing this game –

anything that helps you keep sane.

your blood terrarium, my empty echoes

this codependent existence so shallow;

only killing time,

only killing what you wish could be mine.

The long and tempered draped in threads black and red.
I heard your song before I could hear you sing
So many souls in one voice so many tones of toil
How many nights did they string out your glory cured on black oil?
So Slip the jab when lights flicker fast
you beat them down to the streets
they tried to beat you with the side-speak
It's okay, we got records and you got tender
when the tables turned you dished out what we blendered
Your record was played louder than the rest
our money was your mind ******
Bitter in jest like mothers media mess
cinderElla your dress dismantle moments
That were meant for no one but Frank

I take another listen while my love does crank
A slow grind, it goes well with what I drank  
That autumn wine house is the sugar in my Bowl, Tank!
No substitute for Contralto diction, a heart shank
So I come crawling back to you like pulp fiction
We love our ***** drugs *** and musical afflictions  
I'm sure you were watching when MJ took it all the way,
thinkin' Who cares if I burn out or fade away
Can't be leave you beat me to the punch
27 was my aim but got distracted by the day to day
guess you never got that time
but now you'll get plenty out of mind

Take your time you tall glass of wine
fly away at 33 revolutions per meters per Second
Those Seconds Squared as over time come paired
rest your vibrato on the drums of my ear
and lay your diaphragm on the beat of my heart
I'll give them the finger for questioning your part!
I'll give them a humdinger for the hell of your art!
you beat me to the punch you goddess of clubs
So I live to carry your tune and fade away sweetly to the tomb
We'll never say goodbye with words
***'s your vibrations synchronize my palpitations
Invisible meanings shared between nouns and verbs
We say love is blind... Could it really be that absurd?