Some call me a genius.
Some call me insane.
My friends say I'm a tragedy.
My parents say I'm just a little eccentric.
Tell me what you think.
I am nothing but a puppet.
Being handled and tossed around.
After awhile I'm just set aside.
I'm diverting at first, almost enjoyable, but, in the end, a bitter pill to all.
I apperceive no need to breath.
I have to necessitate my lungs to swell with air, then to shrivel, and epitomize the essence of life.
That's where my eloquence comes from, or it's the insanity. I'm not sure.
In my frigid, obscured, irrecoverable mind, insanity is eloquence, eloquence is tragedy, and tragedy is beauty.
I exist for the darkest of romances, the most distorted of lives.
It brings me what's closest to a sense of your "well-being".
I hate, therefore, I love.
So if I love hate, then, I love circles.
That's what my love is, a circle.
The grasps of reality, though persistent, quickly overwrought and became transient to me not very recently, but not too long ago.
I will abruptly tear down and rip to shreds any mark of social normality in or around me.
Now, will you decide whether I live or die?
Or shall I for you?

Do I have to describe
the inside?
To treat
to seat
Femme Fatale.
Frisk the air
frigid in distress.
To own
or mourn
Spirit
in spite
of spirit
lies.

I've got my eye on you.
Where are you going?
Could I follow you?
I'd be on the next train, too.
I hear you're lost at sea.
I hope you're trying not to sink.
Feel my heartbeat in your chest.
Feel how it beats unlike the rest.
Stick around and see,
just how high we could be.
Will you be with me?
Will you be my sea?
I just had the strangest dream.
You were laying next to me.
I just saw the strangest thing.
Flesh and bones.

All the days keep falling away.
Ever since you left me that day.
Winter is coming,
and I don't know where I'll stay.
The cold is showing,
I don't know how I'll wake from this
sleep.
I don't know what I'm doing anymore.
I think I'll wander in the morning
'til I can't no more.
Winter is coming,
and I don't know where I'll stay.
The cold is showing,
I don't know how I'll wake from this
sleep.
I thought I saw you on an airplane in the sky today.
Wondering where you're going, why you've gone away.
Winter is coming,
and I don't know where I'll stay.
The cold is showing,
I don't know how I'll wake from this
sleep.

I'm searching for a voice.
It came to me on a breeze,
as tantalizing as Spring in the Summer.

Have you heard a voice?
It told me all about your dream.
It told me all about the King of Summer.

Have you seen a trail?
The path grew grass and I lost my way.
The sun so hot, I evaporate.

The other side looks great.
I feel so heavy I'm about to break.
Floating backwards in the greyest state.

He sees her dancing.
He wants to tell her.
He wants to let her know.
But the world won't allow.
“It could never work,” says the world behind windows.
Watching.
Waiting.
Waiting for the upcoming tragedy.
His heart says different.
His heart says to tell her and it'll all work out.
He knows he can trust his heart.
After all,
it's His.
He tells her without anymore hesitation.
Shock filled the young girl's eyes.
A sign of recognition...
or was it?
Was it a sign of confusion?
Frustration?
Then nothing.
No Word.
Next day, he sees her dancing.
Then forgets.

Today, I woke up in a cloud.
A fine mist acted as the feet of the cloud,
walking the white wall down my street.
The lugubrious beast left footprints in the form of white fire.
The brilliant flames slowly engulfed the mountain of sand across the street.
This mountain being the foundation of my home,
and many others for the last few decades.
“Oh, what a masterpiece is this?
What force, ruled beyond the normal aesthetic reality,
could have put all the glory of God in this elemental connection?”
I was thinking this as it was happening.
As I watched all the glory of God
devouring the edge of my roof,
and carefully pressing against the window, I drifted.
I was caught in a world between worlds,
a buffer zone.
Once I was settled in the world between worlds,
an overwhelming sense of nostalgia came over me.
This wasn't the first time my eyes have seen this world of particular white.
I have never in my life felt so lonely.
The strange thing is, in this nothing of a world,
I have never felt so content, so much at peace.
I had no thoughts,
for only emotion thrived here.

I don't need you anymore.
The thought makes me drop through the floor.
It's time to go through another door.
Stop and see, we've been here before.
Where'd you go?
I've been searching since tomorrow.
It's hard to think that your life is filled with sorrow.
I hate to say it, but it's time to let it go.
I hate to say it, but it's time to let us know.
I hate to say it, but it's time to let us go.

It was the means to the end that got us started.