Well, aren't you beautiful
In the sunlight today?
Your sweaty face
A shovel in your hands
You look at me
But no soul can be seen
In your cold blue eyes
The water you give me
Is all muddy and *****
Oh, I can't grow like this
With you

The sunrays dance
All alone today
Without your face
And the heat of your hands
Warmer than the sun
It sings a sad song
And I sing along
The water you used to give
I need it more than anything
Oh, I'm going to die here
Without you

remind me of the good old days
when the grass was blue and tickled our
sallow faces, mashed into the ground with the
ferocity of dogs straining
against their masters’ wishes.

when i touched you and my hands came apart clean
as if they had run upstream along
your shoulder blades, peeling sweetly
as the sun renewed our forms
fresh, whole.

where the stars beamed down so bright
even the winterfairies came out
to dance with the night,
lovers tucked away in her
curve, reveling in orgiastic sincerity.

our organic bodies, lined with
organic dust, recollect in the shade
of rose-colored wisteria, blooming free
high and sweet, breathing in
breathing out.

if you look after boredom it will grow free-flowing metaphor's
boredom needs to be watered with laugher
boredom cannot surive in a ordinary environment
bordom should only be given narcotic once a year, in a small dose
it flourishes in social settings
and its natural habitat is the dancefloor

You can't plant seeds and then stray
Your seed is planted but I don't want to stay.

I'm falling through
the cracks in the ground,
the ground beneath me has never been stable,
but sometimes,
after a cry or two,
I become a Bamboo plant,
turns out I don't need the light as much as I need to cry.