And in the darkest darkness
we can hear
the silent tears falling

We regret nothing
or maybe something
and we keep on speaking
without words

With no sense on where we are going
The path to nowhere
Leading us home
into nothingness

Can you hold my hand?

On the creaking wooden chair in the corner, hanging on the scaffold, in the circular mirror, distorted and twisted and folding. It stands in the shadows. It lurks in the school playground while parents wait for their children, it’s a runaway train, and it’s the ink streaming down the window pane, it’s the clock melting inwards.
its golden fluidity and baby blue subtleties.
It’s the reason why you wake in the middle of the night,
gasping into darkness and grappling with loose ends... it was just a dream.
The reason you turn a corner just to look back behind you, why you double-take in the mirror, question where did I go?
Looking at nothing, staring into the bleak dark, it lurks. Awaits.
It waits in the form of a child holding a red balloon, staring into our blind spots.
Like shadows, when the sun rotates away from behind the playground wall you know, just then, now, in that full circle...
it’s about to run out.
You bend over backwards to relate to the moonlight dancing on the floor of its own reflections. It shows itself on beer bottles from better nights, you cross one leg over the other, position yourself,
folded linen.
Rushing to endless deadlines for nowhere o’clock, last call for the runaway train, struggling with human concepts.
You’re simply a sum of parts: an addition of flesh, limbs, old and broken battered bones, blind spots.
All the places you can’t see, can’t feel, can’t reach.
Loose ends meet themselves in the corner of that same old dusty room,
the folded linen crumples to the floor,

the red balloon bursts.

I’m on a road trip to a place called crazy
but my tank is empty and my windshield’s got a crack.
The lane’s are foggy and my vision’s hazy,
but I don’t give a single **** ‘cause I’m not coming back.

And the streets are dark and my headlight’s are broken,
My seatbelt’s fastened so tight that I am chokin’.
My tires are popped and my engine is burning
at the green I stopped but kept on learning.

I could never drive fast enough
to escape what’s left behind.
Admiring skid marks and envying every scuff
I’ll keep going even when I’m deaf and blind.

I’m on a road trip to a place called crazy
it’s settled in between “grief” and “regret.”
I’m sure a bus runs there, although I’m lazy,
and timing’s the only thing I forget.

And the streets are dark and my headlight’s are broken,
my speakers blew out, but there’s words to be spoken.
My brakes are shot and my signals are mixed,
it’s the only ride I’ve got, but it can’t be fixed.

And I’ll pass by landmarks on the side of the road,
but won’t stop for a picture, don’t want to waste a smile.
I’ve been riding the back of a trailer that cautions a heavy load,
I could pass it but I’ll stay behind for one more mile.

I could never drive fast enough
to escape what’s left behind.
I’ll keep going even though the road is rough,
I’ll keep travelling until I find my mind.

The future,
A thing that once was so
distant and unknown,
Is now almost crystal,
And the people I thought
I'd spend forever with,
Are nowhere to be found.

I'm lost in translation,
bound
by hallucinatory sensations,
found
between border and sea,
cold but free
like a continental breeze
that drifts lonely
to shore.
Still so unsure.
Then lost again once more.
This time she's lost like never before.

I caught an arrow that broke your heart
You dodged a bullet meant for me