I hear the electricity fade
The room is lit with the TVs black haze
My body in your arms is no game
But now I'm all you want to play

I keep the TV on, because when I do it feels like I'm living.
I keep my browser running, because when I do, it feels like I'm feeling.
I keep my movement low, because I'm slow, because I'm softer
and I burrow deep beneath my sheets to forget that I'm a daughter.
World's potential rages, shapes and faces overwhelm me,
and I'm screaming silent for the quiet that I feel like I am missing.
I want to touch you, see you, hold you, speak without restriction.
But I numb my mind in sounds and lights, so that I can slip away.

Over-stimulation cradles what craves to be kinetic,
pacifies the glowing inside craving open air.
I cannot move, I cannot go, I'm too afraid to ride the ride
and so I'll sit behind the lines
and participate by watching.

And here we'll watch the world together- and also so alone
would that I could
rip free the bandage
and leave my ***** home.

and the internet praises the introvert and tells us we're secretly deep.
And we dress our wounds with wasted time until we fall asleep.

And in my dreams I'm running, fighting, TRYING SO HARD
to break free.
And in the morning, I shudder, shake them off
and dim the light in me.

And day after day
back, here we go,
back to the flickering screen.

Cold as Hell,
as paradoxical as that seems,
I know I might seem humble it’s true,
even though on the down low I’ve got high self esteem,

watching Indiana Jones on the big screen,
got little time for nonsense,
even though we seem to make a big scene,

it seems,
that nothing is as it seems,
feeling like Indian Jones,
is it a *** of gold or a hill of beans,

more Jack than Jill,
more Mulder than Gillian,
and things are getting word like the X-Files,
some of the Lizard People are Chameleons,

or better yet Camillions,
money is their sun they bask in it,
on a rock in an ocean call it a continent,
not content at all with the poetic tragicness,

feeling repelled as 2 negatives,
yet as attracted as a magnet is,
anyways what’s my point,
I don’t know I suppose it depends on what your perspective is,

I just call it like I see it,
no filter unedited,
no hashtags just a hash bag,
actually I don’t even smoke that ****t,

not even a little bit,
that’s not my favorite intoxicant,
anyways I should probably get off my soapbox,
because I seems I am on a rant,

so that’s it I’m done,
heading back to my house in the clouds,
where I can write in silence,
and let me words be as loud as Hell,

cold as Hell,
as paradoxical as that seems,
I know I might seem humble it’s true,
even though on the down low I’ve got high self esteem,

watching Indian Jones on the big screen,
got little time for nonsense,
even though we seem to make a big scene,

it seems,
that nothing is as it seems,
feeling like Indian Jones,
is it a *** of gold or a hill of beans…

∆ LaLux ∆

Things between us have changed.
Pretending only presents the underlying problem.
We spend our time in seperate rooms.
The television on two seperate channels.
Still unable to find what we're looking for.
Demanding peace unwilling to press for change.
The thing's we said we'd never do.
Complete faith that we'd never walk pass each other.
So much as a single word.
Strangers in wait that it will get better.
If it isn't you, I can't go on.
Good or bad.
Being forced to pretend that everything is alright.
Another show airs.
Demanding attention else where.
I am trying,
But can't keep flipping past the infomercials without being tempted.
Searching for a happy ending

i put the baby in it’s cradle ,
and watch it as
it sleeps ,

you sit and watch tv in the room
two over
and think i love you back .

outside, the
sky fogs blue and the streetlights
shine bright orange —

you never went without a home.

it shows.
.
.

Moving the T.V set
so we can get a clearer view
of the lightning storm

This morning
I dreamt of you
I can't help but ask...
Did you dream of me too?

We took refuge
In a fort in a tree
With Minecraft t-shirts
And cartoons on the TV

My nose was pierced
But I took it out
There was nothing but certainty
No feelings of doubt

Your hands traced
Over my body
It was the first time we had
That kind of intimacy

I felt the freedom
When you entered me
Kissing deeply
And giggling light heartedly

We tried the position
You always wanted to
I laid down
My back to you

It was when I turned over
Playing the little spoon
That I heard my neighbour
Coming home too soon

As the door slammed
I knew it was fantasy
I still felt my hand on yours
Resting on my hip gently

Falling from the astral plane
Feeling like celestial being
I took a dive from the stars
It felt like my soul was torn from yours

I crashed into my body
Tears in my eyes
I swear to God you were with me
Soaring above those skies

I am preparing
for the sharing
of grief
as a another doctor
leaves.

Space and time
part like
the red sea.
I believe
the next one
will be good,

but I am emotionally attached
like I was to the last,
and the other doctor who passed.

Christmas time
and I will come home
to find
these tears of mine
are rather silly,
falling for
a fictional character
who isn’t even
dying.

He is just regenerating,
just changing
like we all do
even though
we struggle to
hold on to the past.

Nothing lasts,
nothing last,
nothing………