my friend did a tarot reading
and i told him that the catalyst for change
had already happened

he asked what the catalyst was
what the change would be

i told him
that i couldn't tell him one, and
that the other was just me
wandering through the woods with no map
and pretending i was still
an orienteer.

I've got this big map in my head
Pondering over which route to take
I've always wanted a perfect life
Hoping to be someone's faithful wife
I try not to worry about making mistakes
Keeping my head up even when my heart breaks
If life was meant to be perfect
"This is too good to be true," I would have said

Do not talk of the honey I pickled in your light bulbs

They do not have the map to help us reach The Alps

Just talk of the hungry flower growing on my lungs

At least they have the address to the hut on my palms

That’s drawn by the little girl who feasted on the chalks

The butterflies long ago planted along in their pulse.


Quick,  


Incinerate the 1800s post-mortem portraits

In black light's faked midnight perfumes

For you are my forlorn apostrophe high on gas

That might ask questions while telling us your tales

Or reluctantly whisper ****** things about Laqus

Who is wasting us to the wistful hell flowers.

The road of life is not straight,
And it does more than
Simply turn out of sight.
It winds and it bends,
And it twists out of sight.
It climbs great high mountains,
And creeps through dark forests.
It disappears underground at times,
So you can't even see,
Your hand in front of your face,
Let alone the next trick life life throws at you.
It crosses huge plains,
And trudges through oceans.
Sometimes it rains,
or even pours,
And yet just as often,
The sun shines so bright and hot,
That you can barely breathe,
Or even just see.
Life gives you options,
Forks in the road,
You don't know where you're going,
But you go all the same.
You wish for a road map,
But none ever came.
So you just keep on marching,
And we'll do the same.

Yes, we'll all just keep on marching,
On this road we call life.

What do I have on this empty white surface
This wordless page mocks my pen
There is no life, there is no death
There is only... (dot, dot, dot)

Emotionless indifference pulled to the unknown
A course not yet plotted
A map, as yet, undrawn
Precision of thought can't connect the dots
There is only... (dot, dot, dot)

No fear or apprehension
A new world awaits
The first step, a new life
Still, there is an unwritten story
And I am mocked by this empty white page
There is only... (dot, dot, dot)

Let's make a map of all the places we've made love in this small town.

Your veins are a map
that I will always
want to explore

Close my eyes
and guide my fingertips
To a destined spot