I'm glad he left me
in a Window by the Sea
See I had forgotten
to Be
Truer to Myself than he.

And now, drowning in misery,
I never seem to feel happy.
So it's a relief to stare pensively
Through this Window by the Sea,
and observe how mesmerizing
and brighter my reflection is,
Without He who stood beside Me.

It took me 10 years to let you in. 10 years to allow you to look at me and truly see me. 10 years for me to let you look at the piece of me I've never gotten back. That piece is yours. Hell, all of me is yours if you want it. I don't know if I can bear to be anyone else's now, knowing what I know; how things could be. And this is why it took 10 years. I've always been afraid that once I tried you I wouldn't have a taste for anything else. I let you in completely. No walls. No pretenses. No pretending I didn't. Now what?

So soon, long gone...
Your time it was...
Nothing but the cold memory you left,
Nothing but empty sadness.
A lingering rain remains,
Not of the sky...
Wholely mine.
This sunny day parade,
wonderful if you had stayed.
Resolute with nothing...
I will keep walking...
One day, will I find?
Meaning to this flux of rain and shine.

The days go by...
I really dont know why...
Is any of it worth it?
These humid wet dark days...
Shall I forfeit?
You're promise of hope,
gone with the uncaring wind...
You leave me standing, wondering...
Is any of it worth it in the end?

you climb a tree, right to the top
the tree took years to reach those nauseating heights
energy, commitment, obstinateness to make it
and you, the one with the selfish gene, climb up it
cutting out all the hard work
and I can't blame you, for I have done it too

tu montes à un arbre, jusqu'à la cime
l'arbre a passé des années à arriver à cette hauteur écoeurante
l'énergie, l'engagement, l'obstination pour réussir
et toi, celui avec le gène égoïste, tu montes
en passant tout le travail dur
et je ne te reproche pas de le faire, car je l'ai fait aussi

Waking up to hazy mornings.
To the bitter cold days of
Early Spring.

I've never seen such a beautiful sunrise.

Nine o' clock cigarettes during
The morning rush.
Saturday morning cigarettes
That muddle my head.
The chilly air mimics the smoke
Spewing from my lips,
Toxins sticking to my lungs
Like glue.

It's another day in Paradise.

The dishes in the sink
Pile up in mountains.
Like the skyscraper laundry stack
Overflowing in the hamper.

Just another day in Paradise.

The street lamps glisten as strings of pearls
Their light reflecting off the silver glare of traffic barrels.

The flowers have not arrived.
The flowers have not bloomed,
And the anxiety is killing me.
Killing me like the coffee craving
Pounding in my head.
The flowers are missing,
Hiding from the stinging cold
Of early Spring.

I've never seen such beautifully dismal skies.

In the mild conversations about the weather,
I tell them that it's never been better.
In a way, it's never been.

I walk down the battleground of sidewalk
And tree roots, the slabs of concrete
cracked and marred by Mother Nature's
Will.
Broken etchings of hopscotch
Blur on the gritty surface, besides
The rose bush peeking out through the
Fence.

They'll never fix these.

Because it's another day in Paradise.

In these days of routine chaos
And the stench of gritty gasoline;
These days of gross consumerism
And bland conversations
About the weather,
I,
I am wracked with a sickness.

In the hours of the day
That fleet past like minutes;
In the minutes of the day
That drag on like hours,
I,
I am spun dizzy by
The skull's own thickness.

The everyday dreams of
The common man that are
lost along with yesterday's
ambition;
The sleepless nights of
The mothers of children who
Work as unfinished puzzles;
The puddles of melted slush piles
Spaced like land mines
Across the crackled sidewalk
Are things that I,
I am haunted by in moments
Alone.