Candle in a dark room.
Fire in the ice,
Laughter in the gloom.
Taker of breath,
Bringer of death.
Dryer of tears,
Bringer of fears.
You intoxicate the sober,
Bring the chills in October.
As the bringer of destruction,
You then begin the construction,
Of a being anew.
I remember the way the ice looked on the street that night.
The dullness of poorly lit lights paired with too much Seagrams 7 made it shine just enough to mesmerize sunken eyes.
Just enough to convince you to stay.
Just enough it convinced me to stay.
Again, In the home I couldn't seem to escape.
Didn’t want to escape.
Back inside, dodging objects to stay alive.
Different sizes, different aims.
It was not just a game.
The monster I somehow loved,
dragging me away from all that is and was real.
I thought he was real.
The same monster who didn't love me,
in that cold house,
on that icy street.
To be in love and to be loved are far from the same,
like you and me.
Before the ice is really the one to blame.
What would you tell yourself now
Four weeks ago.
Amongst our spirit
The city grows mist, ice, and snow.
Rusty reactions due to
An unfortunate but captivating trance.
Go, Leave it be!
What even is mankind now?
These hands shake
Between the blurred lines of history.
The widow screams and arches her body inwards
Morning like never before.
A loud cry of sheer pain and foolish ignorance
To the fact that the sound
Echoes through streets
With no receiving ears…
How many years?
The light of music,
Flowing though old days of youth,
TIme seems like a person now,
I have become so acquainted with its passing,
It feels like time is truly Father time,
A creature forged to make me lose my youth,
Everything I have known,
Ripped away by the simple flipping of a calendar
I see a light before me, bright as day,
I see peace ahead, but I still yearn to go own way,
The clouds on the horizon float out of sight,
On my knees, this has broken the last of my fight.
Gentle ringing fills these dead ears,
Crying tears of sorrow for my wasted years,
Yesterday's sorrows, tomorrow's white light
Soul chained beneath the ground, never to take flight.
What does snow feel like to those who've never felt it?
Let me try and picture it.
It's a nice, soft crunch rustling in my hands.
Powdery but a bit moist, melting as it lands.
It's like clay but airier, I mold it to a ball.
I throw it only to hear the muffled thump against the wall.
I let the flakes fall on my tongue, they taste of dust and water.
I take some and form some walls and there inside I potter
burying myself in the feeling of cold and wet and grime.
How fun it is to do so much and have this great a time.
But I've never felt it.
And I never will.
when did I become so cold
when did I become so "chill"
when did I start to avoid any feelings...
they were all wrong...so used to it being wrong,
I can't distinguish what is good...
well acting requires uncertainty
"everything will be okay, they say
nahh that truth is it won't be
I may get hurt once or twice
I may find out things I don't like
I may have to leave
can we survive the distance
is it worth it
I could fail
we could fail
what if I was open to receive love
now that I know all the consequences
what else ya got