''just one more turn mommy!''
but we all only get one turn on this merry go round...
this torturous device spinning for what may seem like a small time but is really eternity.
the lights and music make it seem beautiful and distract you from the chipped paint and broken seat belt leaving you unconnected from the horse.
the kids cheering loving the show but you see the adults all craving for it to be over already.
our lives are all like merry go rounds.
it may be fun for now.
but eventually you'll get dizzy.
and everything will fade.
and you'll just be another horse on the merry go round with a broken seat belt,
waiting for an eager child to ride you.
and they'll be glimmering waiting for the adventure.
and you'll sit there being full of the knowledge of the ride and how it turns out.
but now you're just another horse.
and soon... everyone will just be a horse.

I'm basking in sadness
Like lovers do after heated love-making
It coats my skin and leaves me aching for more
Another taste of the pleasure of agony
The only difference is I'm alone
There's no one there tangled up in the mess of me
And in the throes of my passion
There was no one to witness the arch of my back
Or my teeth digging into the softness of the pillow
The bruises it left aren't hand-shaped,
And they lie underneath my skin instead of coloring it
Sweet agony is a lonely existence
Yet one that I invite into the emptiness of my bed as often as I can

I'm just an empty coffee cup, with nothing left in me and all of the stains from the past.

It hasn't rained this hard in months, the window is tasting the wrath of the sky and I am laying, clothed in empty. Have you ever felt the weight of lids against your eyes? It's almost like the closing of the curtain after a play that should have never ended. I guess that's how I feel tonight. It's the first time that the tremble of lightning shakes the house and I don't miss you. It's the first time that the thoughts inside my head are being drown out by rain. Maybe this is why there are storms, maybe everyone is a little empty. I've always loved the roaring of thunder; I never loved you.

In a darkened room
I whispered the evening blooming
Like a winter rose Or summer love
Here but for only a moment
And on waking
*It passed into dreams