There as I sat it spoke to me,
   this wall of asymmetric cracks.
Its faded, soaked cement remained.
   Its light red bricks answered back.
Past these chips of aged white
   the blue sky hung with wispy cloud.
A distant bird with creeping weeds
   through ancient windows spoke aloud.
Here light enfolds these steps of prayer
   where new fresh grass is listening.
The hedges kept with varied plants
   in waving breezes are glistening.
This ruined wall tells its story
   of faded asymmetric glory.

i think my mounted head would look nice next to yours
and we live in a mansion with one million doors
and there's a whole world deep beneath the floors
and i engineered the forest so i could take you on a tour

i built some tall trees and ill teach you and youll learn
theres something in this world called a picadilly fern
its my chance to fall in love this is my turn

i ate a four-leaf clover and
consumed its luck, which died in me.
i lied in the quick, quiet field,
killing the grass,
looking to set myself free.
i drank and i drank
from every river, every creek,
my thirst unsatisfied until it had every sea.
my touch burned down forests,
my glance slaughtered meadows,
when climbing and looking for everything, anything,
i killed every tree.

in my quest for satisfaction,
i murdered the sky,
and yet nowhere have i found the fulfillment
i believe key.
thus, starved for complacency,
i continue my fruitless killing spree.

I hear him mention that my greatness is that of a family name
and in that moment I understand I am nothing but a legacy.

And my tears are the vines that climb the deck
and put out his cigarette

and my memories create a storm
and dilate his ***** 'till it is water

-it takes time to see your true magic

Lovers, forget your quarrels and
Listen to the flower,
The breeze,
The finch’s tune,
And find the love in them.
Breathe
And win the fight within
Yourself
And then, lovers, your
Fight will be
A hundred miles away.

They say
Their morning glories have bloomed
With the rise of the sun

The look of a flower that will stay blossomed
The fullness of the flower
Looks to never
Lose that form

A continuation of sweet flavors
and validation
Now asleep
Only asleep
With the rest of the town

Now
With the moon lit
Mine must have
Fallen back asleep

But now there is nothing
No blooming
No whispers of kind comments
nor ear for reciprocation

The space now looking an awful lot
Like when the morning glory was just planted
Like the morning glory was never planted

Was there even a flower to begin with?
I simply don't believe so.

I'd promise to not anticipate it's bloom tomorrow
But I cannot make that promise