i listen to "pompeii"
as it burns itself to pieces on the radio
and rises like a phoenix (with no beginning) from the ashes when i repeat the lyrics to myself over and over again

"where do we begin
the rubble
or our sins?"

where did i (the phoenix) begin
in the rubble or
my sins?

are we taken from dust and returned to dust ("how am i gonna be an optimist about this?")

or are we taken from the ashes and redeemed

am i the city everybody loved whose "walls kept tumbling down"

if i was "left to my own devices"
would i even begin?
or would i "close my eyes"
"bringing darkness from above"

but
if a "great cloud rolled over the hill"

could my sins be forgiven
could my sins be forgiven
yet?

Let the molecules charge and crack
and rip the world right open
around me.

Let the closet under the stairs
smoke and fry and cook,
let the tangled wires melt
into each other like they'll
never let go,
their flashing shadows
welded arm in arm like a
Pompeii puppet show.

Let the air's discontent
rumble softly and
let the rattling house rock me to
sleep.

To sleep, perchance to dream—

If you felt the fires of love,
mule-driver,

you would make more haste to see Venus.
I love a charming boy;

I ask you,
goad the mules;

let’s go.
Take me to Pompeii,

where love is sweet.
You are mine…

We all have flaws, and we know it.  No one is perfect, and perfect shouldn’t even be a word in the dictionary, because what use does it have? Perfect body? What makes some of us think it’s perfect? Oh yeah, that’s right, the ******* media.  Trying to tell us our flaws won’t be accepted in the real world so we must change ourselves to look like the ‘perfect’ celebrity. The lyrics are saying that he didn’t accept his flaws, and kept them hidden.  But the person being addressed to accepted their flaws and is trying to help the singer accept them too.  ‘We’ll see that we need them to be who we are…’  We must all accept them.  We are scared of being different because it’s not ‘normal.’  If we were all the same, there would be nothing special about us.  The internal struggle of not accepting who we are is normal.  We are struggling to hide ourselves, because we are ashamed of whom we really are.  We single out our flaws and try to ‘fix’ them and try to be perfect.  But in the end, we’re not.  
a.a.

It was the middle of December and you made sure to turn on your fan before you went to sleep.

It was the beginning of January and I suddenly understood why you kept your fan on as 'I love you' rolled out of your mouth like the smoke that loomed over Pompeii. You choking on your own words was a red flag. I guess the smoke was too thick for me to notice.

It was February and the lava began scorching my fingertips with each muffled 'I love you.’ Some people tried to run, I chose to melt to death.

It was March and I was hoping you were only cauterizing my wounds, protecting me from something more harmful. I was wrong. Nothing is more harmful than a natural disaster.

It was April and you had cremated me to ash. I realized your false ‘I love you’s were what caused the tectonic plates to shift.

It is May and I am still reminiscing on January.

In June I hope the fan in your room keeps you cool enough from the volcano that you are.

Moth wings fluttering against my cheekbones
you are warmth
you are light

I am standing at the edge of this ocean
watching the galaxy pool around me

I do not care if it is a halo or horns
you have hiding out beneath your hat

It does not matter to me if you have shoulder blades
where your wings should be

We can press our bones together for all of eternity
We can be an archeological discovery

Love buried in ash
You are forever all I will need