the beat
the everlasting
never-ending pulse
the heat
dreaming
no music but house
city lights
teasing, fooling around
shaking through and through
i feel the presence of the sound
although i have no clue
pulsating within me
vibrating around
that's how i like my music
fast and furious
as a hound
tearing the silence apart
melodies go for a twist
owner of a lonely heart
never lost in the mist.

I leave my house for the last time
And prepare to drive for the last time.
I planned where I would go
And how they would never find me in time.

Soft rain pours down the windows
As I pull out of the driveway.
I look at the hazy world around me in awe
Of how dreamy it looks.
Suddenly I don't want to go anymore.

Life may just be worth it again...

We met on the corner of Saxon and 95 south
During one of those nights I was crawling out of my anaphoric daydream
I was a broken down bride in my sheets of white linen
When  I noticed the light in your eyes were as dull as mine
When the moon sculpted a mirage in the center of your ashtray
When you told me you needed me to stay a moment longer
I traded you a Chevy ride for a song of sweet surrender
As you blessed the burning willows that bled through my black and mild soul
Firing the sparks inside of me that had never seen a flame  
As I drowned in a carcass of rapids that never seemed to lay still
I reached into my lillies and pulled out a candle
To lighten your vision until you reached home
Until you were strong enough to love her again
And you thanked me with a smile and a tank of gas
I drove until midnight, staring at the moonlight
listening to the sighs of my breathe against the wind
And the sweet little woman who lives inside of my bones  
Reminds me of the way old Georgia worshipped my vines
I chose to abandon his comfort and wisdom
For the freedom of white lines on an open road
And while it soothes me to see him settle without me
I can’t help but wonder if I’ll always be a withdrawn vagabond
With my toes in the sand, with my head in clouds
Writing lines in a blank verse of commitment.

Babe It's getting late and I'm tired, I better drive home now she whispered.
It was the last thing she actually wanted to do as she felt the weight of his body on her lap, with one hand intertwined with his, and the other caressing his back.
The moment was perfect, sitting in silence just being with him
she could stay like that forever, but she could  feel those three
poisoned words wanting so desperately to escape her mouth, fear
started to set in, a deep real fear that this could all be coming to an
end in a few short weeks, how could that be, they had been through
so much, always coming back to each other like a wave to its shore.
She promised herself she could do it, she could be friends with him, she
could separate her feelings from his tainted lips and electrifying body.
But as she leans down placing her soft gentle lips on his head it's clear it's
too hard, she needs to escape, she can't get this close again, just for him to
leave, so she'll lie and tell him she needs to go, kiss him goodbye and once
again drive home with tear stained eyes.  
-LH

27 miles to empty
i needed to leave the house
i needed to get out of bed
to escape from loneliness
and, for a moment, leave behind
every single thing i never said

out of the quiet emptiness
of my cold grey walls
out of my head which,
coincidentally, only finds
stillness in distraction

i needed to give myself
something else to think about
to be preoccupied from
my own preoccupations

because it's never empty
up there, but sometimes
when i sing along
it starts to feel like
it's just me and the music

but my phone is dead
it always is
it's surprisingly hard work
avoiding all the conversations
you don't want to have
(which is most of them)

FM radio, i forgot where to look
i scan the stations
three times over
and only stop when i feel like
i'm emma woodhouse
88.1, symphony no. 3

and in the dark
i don't even have to
close my eyes
to pretend i'm someone else
somewhere else,
sometime else

and then the host rolls
advertisements, deals and steals
and did you know the cemeteries
are ready to serve you again?
i laugh to myself and wonder
what's it like to serve the dead?

to dig six feet down
and resist falling in
it's much more sad
up on top, anyway, you know

but i'm distracted again
and god, it feels good
i'd rather think about death
than how much it hurts
just to exist sometimes

in the classical music
i lose myself in the past
i'd romanticize a war if it meant
i'd get to wear a pretty dress
and never have to think of
someone falling out of love with me
ever again

even if it's because they're bleeding out
on a muddy battlefield
in the middle of a match
that wasn't even theirs to fight

somehow death seems a more
proper thought than imagining
you going on and living
without me

7 miles to empty
and i'm back to where it all began
i just can't shut out the voices
telling me all roads don't lead to you