They were children tasting sugar
For the first time
Without all the artificial layers
The raw sweetness
Making them gasp and shiver
Anticipating for more
Turning them into wild animals
Ravaging its meal
Showing their true identities
Buried in these colors

Thrown into the deep end
It was impossible to reach
Thrown into the deep end
Its something they couldn't teach
The art of survival, a fight for air
Or ignoring yet another stare
From fish insignificant but i could not foresee;
They own these oceans; its their territory
Indeed a peculiar enigma, left with no choice but to imitate
Or be stuck in an unwelcoming fate
A better status to those who dont conform
I could feel my cartilage being born
I didnt look like the rest, didnt feel like them either
Something was confusing about this prochedure
No scales, only the gills made me feel similar...
Something shining within me, so many sparks
Throw me into the deep end and i'll be swimming with the sharks.

the previous listener, who did so faintly and in a manner foreign to me, sat reasonably as I do now, or perhaps lain starry and jaded on some soft lawn riddled with the paused movements of those who watched, clouded with distraction, the life of a sweet nothing drown in descent from above as they cheered and screamed for it, for that meaningless treasure tainted by the vanity of their own desire, ignorant of the listener, of her own treasure then forming, as something warm and enduring in the seat of her chest, something to brood, to analyze, to cherish for a length, at great odds with the fleet and trivia that so dominated the struct of their noire.

but the listener had none of this, gulfed from the shaking and pressing, shielded the same from its symbol and write, opting to push for those few golden moments most certainly approaching her as the rest wraithed past, softly and shyly granting the scarcest and most shamefully starved of treelines, roadways and ballparks and wire staff, knowing but keeping that the few she would most deeply and fondly remember would be just these.

and so the listener and her lover stood past, sweeping over the artificial earths with little concern, not pausing or skipping for a moment to witness the wonder in the world around them and to soak up some indefinable fraction of its infinite offerings. from lain block to patch grass they strode, searching for their one moment, for that which so surely stood staunch and unmoving at some near point in their passage, but which always seemed to elude them, to taunt and hang and cackle in the face of their steadily growing contempt.

and then, as the crowd deserted their peaks for the safe and steady and trough, allowing those moments of elation to slip from them with ease, the listener let likewise all that was precious to her from her grasp, and fell into a similar place, one of deserted lows and recollections of the brightness that lay behind, of those very moments that felt their way independently into her heart and her soul, and left her love beside her, forever looking up into the dark.

Every job is a job
Every cake is a cake
Put on your socks
So your feet are not worn
Put on your shoes
So your socks are not torn
Lay down in bed
Think back on your day
Wake up in mourning
Think forward Today
And it’s always the same
Same old **** in a frame
So bleeding bored
But with no-one to blame
So I look in the mirror
And wrestle my hair
Sculpting an image
That could lead to despair

Collaborate with me
O yes I’m sure it’s fine
Sing your prayers and say hello
I’m sure that it's okay
Rejoice in our lives
Hurrah! Hurrah!
Today is a today
Tomorrow another
Sing Sing Sing
My Sister my Brother
Let’s go out and jump around
I’m sure no-one will mind
Can do some more again
Okay Okay
Not all at once
Lay down alright
Take a breath
Relax together
It’s okay

Give me your dark and decadently delicious desires,
the things you would never share with anyone you love;
those things in which you invest huge regret and gulit and shame...
yet secretly treasure because they make something in you ***.
        All of your unspeakable let it be spoken. embrace it, indulge it...  feel the hardness of your pen, how it throbs and pulses as your long slender fingers curl around it, working their way to the tip, teasing it to a wild frenzy.   Make every stroke of your pen spurt its steamy threads across the vulnerable nakedness of the ****** page and leave your passion dripping from its needy *******.

It isn't easy to pray at night
When worn by thoughts of old
It gives peace to my young soul
To know of a happiness foretold
If only all questions were quelled
And that evasive peace withheld
I might never feel alone again
Knowing anguish could never win
I am the sum of all my pain
A forest held green by the rain

Vagabond with an empty carboy
Searching through the murk of starlight
Drip the molten ice of winter harsh
And the blooms of his past repitoire
Engulfed inside the ethanol marsh

Conscripts fly through bus of steel
Tails of fire and smoky heal
Through the scar shred ****** sand
And rain a glass downpour
That licked a smile to open addiction

Barrel wash and nebulous hide
The screams in blur of addled mind
Red heat burn the hand with shrapnel
Bodies piled in empty screams
Weave through open mouths their spell

Rolls of tracks and wheeled anger
Windows filled by smiles and raining tears
Cobble graves for those who pass
And carafes for relinquished hands
That cannot escape the felt triggered blast

Flower fields like dispersed astral clouds
Colours sharp as bayonets downed
And rusted worn their armaments
Leave in beauty and fictioned dream
For those who died least be their penance

New asteroids collage in belts
Learn the easiness of their strikes
Have fury boiled by worldly ties
And over brims of forges rise
For they must learn their mental cries

Haggard ruins of their youthful posture
Scars and stains litter uniformed closure
The realities nothing can be described
So shall their children not expect
How holding embers in their grip will blind

Threats in words that once were death
Borders crossed without their step
History just words and relics for sons
And in the eyes blanked with the horror
Lest they be forgotten by any one

Soak whom dines on gangling relief
Desire the amnesiac amber thief
But teachers cannot misplace their sight
Have nothing left for meeting glance
Of a innocent smile asking their right

Stand tall with shaking wounded legs
Shell shocked craters as red pegs
In the global map always in shift
Have lessons for the ones whom wish
To know the proper and the wrong we missed

Dwarfs inside the void of matterless
Black blend into the snowy countenance
While burn the brightness of their parents
From ago before repeated actions
Watch fires live in vivid visions

See the tortured starving faces
Break into a knowing grin
As spectral shadows for the lush
To keep their finger always *****
To the evidence we left so much

they called me
queen of the roads
because i knew
every street
in the city
every avenue
every shortcut

they'd tell me
"here's the address"
and i'd get there
as if i'd driven the route
every
****
day

i had never been lost before
i always knew where to go
queen of the roads
but she didn't know
-or maybe she did-
that the reason
i was so good
was because
i was so afraid
of being out of control

so she took me
and kissed me
embraced me
told me i was the queen
and i believed her
but then
she dropped me
-not before she spun the compass-
and for the first time
i was lost

my hands were not comfortable
on the steering wheel
my foot was not at home
on the pedals
my eyes
they were not used
to this scenery
the blinding darkness
from which
there was no escape
because -oh
thats right-
she blew out my headlights too

she was a hurricane
and i was the driver
and she locked my brakes
and she pushed me
straight into that tree
on the corner of
goose street and rose drive
and that's the last there was
of the
queen of the roads