i am t(angle)d up in you once more
drowning from (my) loss before
please re(mind) me again
how (to) fix this
remind me
how
to
(feel)
a(gain)
rem(in)d me
who i was back (the)n
i am (losing) it all at once

He shoots... He misses
He shoots... He misses
He shoots... He tagged me.
*******.

I've been expecting you
I've also been avoiding you
But what could I do when I knew that your aim was true?

That's just Cupid

I must confess, more or less, that I'm back in this mess with this little black cloud in a dress.

Walking all over me, running rings around me. Stamping everywhere that you breathe
Bob says "it's good to talk", the old man says "don't be a grass".
I don't know which one to believe.

That's just stupid.

So we decide to talk but it doesn't last long
Soon enough we're shouting. At least the passion isn't gone.

As I fantasize and fight to rationalize
You exercise your right to exorcise.
Honeymoon is over, we got work in the morning.

But honey is still honey, and a bee is still a bee.
So why's she acting like a wasp?! There's stings all over me.

So I mentioned before that I'm back in this mess, but it's my mess and I'll tidy it up alone.
Well of course you will it's your ****** fault. That's it, I'm turning off my phone.

Where are you?
I miss you

Where are you?
I need to hear your breath
I need to see your eyes
I need to feel your warmth
I need to meet you

I need you...

midnight every day
I lie in bed haunted by my own thoughts
and a question echoes through my bones
“can you really do it?”

almost two decades of the same thing
this question that bears down on me
is what I do enough?
is all of this exhaustion enough to prove something?

oftentimes I let myself be lost
between the lines and the colors and the textures
tangled in the words the world has bestowed upon me
trapped in the frames of what I display to the world

but with every piece I showcase
a part of me is eternally in each one
and the more I give to this earth
the less I have to myself

sometimes I let myself collapse into nothingness
breaking myself beyond repair
trying to find weakness and striking there
just to pour more into the art that I struggle to create

is there really anything good that will come out of this?
is using every ounce of my heart and soul worth every single day?

but if there is anything this cruel world has taught me
it is that I do not just give up on what I love
and what I love might be the death of me
and yet it is the immortality that will carry me on
it is the beauty that I am willing to leave behind

The joy of my father resting with nature is that I hear him rattling underneath the autumn leaves,
I see him in the beautiful view of a mountain and reborn in a summer breeze.
My father isn’t lost in time and has not simply slipped away,
With every sapling that is reborn my fathers spirit remains to stay.
I see him in the foot prints and the temporary ground beneath my feet,
And when we return to nature he and I will rejoice when once again we entwine to meet.

wherever i go
i see your footsteps
marking the snow in my heart

a silent whisper, your voice
sends shivers down my body
while i'm losing everything in your wind

once you have taught me how not to love,
how can i
ever love
again?

so how can i fight if
i'm not whole?
so how to fight if

wherever i go
i see your footsteps
marking the snow in my heart
quietly telling me,
"You can never love again".