I keep trying to erase the memories, the feeling, the sensations, because what we had was an illusion.

I consider myself an impression of art....
Not the art you see in the museum's or the galleries
But the ones left unfinished and imperfect
The blank end of the canvas
The absence of completion
I am each erased line, the unsteady brushstrokes, and every mistake that leads to the Masterpiece.
I'm a work in progress

I dream that the frogs in my backyard have wings
and they fly up to the trees
in the dewy light of dawn
to meet their maker
and kiss under the canopied shade of listless leaves
grazing their backs
and reminding them of simpler times
down from the watery swamp they came from
their webbed feet leave prints on the bark
muddy and cumbersome
but innocent in their doings
a flash flood of lightning  awakens me
i'm laying in damp earth again
time to go back inside

White mask covering your face
A ***** sin you won't erase
It makes everyone think you're clean like a princess
Pretty innocent face in the first place

I pray
To heaven
To hell
Erase my soul
So another
May take
My place

When I think about you
My heart hurts
It hurts for you
It hurts when I think about your pain
The pain you described to me
My heart hurts for you
For your pain
For the pain I wish I could erase
But I cannot erase it
You have to find a way
To see that all will be ok
That the pain is temporary
But still
My heart hurts for you