I find that all of the people i make friends with
Are off kilter
People that are broken beyond my repair
And yet
I try to put them back together  again

They do say that birds of a feather flock together

Maybe its because The sane people make me feel
Like the odd one out
Or Maybe its because the Crazies
Make me feel sane

But anyways, i can already see what will be the death of me

I used to see the world in black and white,
A heart so tender, foolish fright,
My thoughts locked me in, I was afraid to dance,
Until you came, wild dreams and all.

You strut through sidewalks full of pretense and ambition,
Ink stained hands, wondrous eyes, smoke in the night,
I'll never forget your glimmering mind, devilish flare,
A prince who lost himself in city lights.

The pages of who you are were torn and faded,
I saw you pale in the dark, tears flowing from self-hatred,
Then the next second, arrogant and charming, you ran along,
Far from the way I tried to mend you.

I came too close to your flames,
You crept into my side at midnight then disappeared before dawn,
You drowned me with you then fought to bring us back to the surface
And tore me into pieces just as you did to yourself.

But through you, I've learned to see,
I'm illuminated with your visions, I sing your delirious songs,
Your colors poured into the scars on my skin,
But I've also learned how it feels to be alone at night.

I hate to admit I need you, I don't want you to leave anymore.
I circle back, dying to understand who you are,
You're alive in my eyes, the most beautiful but deadly of stars,
Yet the longer I gaze at you, I am blinded by the light.

It was told that differences create harmony
that yin balances yang
that South completes North
that the oceans beautify the land
but I realize;
you and I
are the day and the night
that exist not for each other
to ever meet

A Volkswagen sinks in tainted ink
The purple bunny’s been painted pink
The hare is teetering on the brink
Of broken limelight square.

He rings the thing; it starts to sing
A duckling, suckling ****, goes ping!
A nettle stings the bunny’s wing;
The duckling gets no share.

A shard apart that scarred the heart
Ripped out the one who passed the start
And darting past her cart, remarked
Upon her vacant stare.

A stare so vast that sticks and lasts;
She’s passed the post, she’s missed the mast,
What matters most: what’s passed is past,
Surrendered into air.

grass spinning by the window of the car
whipping round and round
round and round
far above my head.

a memory like an oil painting
the first time i saw evil
shining from someone's eyes
like a beacon.

running, packing, running
as the roof came crashing down
the insects gathered, parasitic
on the shell of their burnt-out home.

thirteen snails and i
making a journey
oblivious to how it would shape the course
of our lives.

they're blue eyes, not brown
you're wrong
how do you know?
my answer rocked the very sky.

crawling pathetically
dragging my exhausted self across the grey
like some kind of bizarre slow worm
a leech on my own house.

the swooping, the draining, the sepia walls
it was the fault of the beads, of course
of me, and of her
for giving them.

seeing her slumped on the floor
dressed in glass
with crimson make-up
shivering in my nightclothes
as the dogs howled behind.

he had fuzzy caterpillar eyebrows
and the evillest laugh i ever heard
his wife gave me a sink
and signalled to keep quiet.

soon i learned
not to trust items with censored details:
boarded-up windows, blacked-out vans and
chained-up rooms.

soon i learned
so many things

~                Peter peter pants aflame
     Danced around while screaming names
               As he stumbled faltered fell
      Went through earth and down to hell
            Now its there he blindly dwells
                            All for a ****
                       that burned to well