Pouring through an hourglass; she’s always “‘in love.’”
I look at her and see some of the stars I lost—years ago.
I never believe a feeling or a word she says,
But that’s nothing new.
I sit up before it all feels too familiar.
There’s a soliloquy of mine floating around,
I can’t quite catch it; I wouldn’t know what to do if I did.
The moment’s crisis is all but lost on me.
My ****** ego and pretentiousness.
I go home to forget any of it ever happened,
And I spell out “lust” where I mean “love.”

Try, try, I try with all my might,
For years, years, for years I fight,
To love you how I think I ought,
Again, again, beneath starlight.

What passion has such moments brought:
Not spoken--but often thought,
From time, reaching that crisis,
Others, that progression is fought.

Such nights, so warm and desirous,
I find my lost, ancient virus,
Deep in those golden irises,
Lost in those golden irises.

In through the nose and out through the mouth.
Over and over; repeat it ad nauseam.
Keep it up and find the way out
Breathe out Count to five out loud.
 
“One, two, three, four, five.”
Breathe in Now breathe out
Breathe out “One, two, three, four, five.”
Breathe in Now let it all out
 
“I hate that you don’t care that I’m proud of you
I hate that he loves you the way I do
I hate your good looks and reading new books
I’m gonna spin out
I think I’m gonna spin out
I hate my mind I hate my life
I hate ever not being by your side
I hate the way you think of me
I hate my walk and I hate my talk
I hate everything I ever do
God I hate being in love with you
I’m gonna spin out
I think I’m gonna spin out
I hate the mountains and I hate the trees
I hate doing things that make good memories
I hate the amber specs inside your iris’
I hate my lovers, every-one
I hate the *** and all the rest
I hate everything I ever do
God I hate being in love with you
I’m gonna spin out
I think I’m gonna spin out.”

Back when I was young my father told me:
That I’d grow up, and I would be lonely,
But not to go, chasing Cleopatra,
Or else I’d die just another bachelor.

He said;

“Oh those pretty girls, there are so many,
Just look around you and, you’ll find plenty;
When you’re hurt and broken by a lover,
Amen, don’t worry, just find another.”

I said;

“Daddy, what if none of them love me back?
What if I’m alone, when the sky turns black?
What If all I am, ain’t what I could be?
It’s hard to find wisdom, but not misery”

He said;

“Son don’t stress, there’ll always be someone
Looking just for you. You: their only one.
And don’t ever worry about heartbreak,
The road to love; it is made of mistakes.

So, count your fingers and count your blessings,
Invite Cleopatra to your wedding.
Never love ‘til you don’t have to chase it,
But when you do, don’t you ever waste it.”

Sally why don’t you throw on that green dress?
The one hanging behind your closet doors,
The one that would always make me a mess,
The one that always makes me wish I’m yours.
 
Sally you should really go get some sleep.
I won’t recognize you next time we meet,
Every time I see you, I hear you weep;
I almost wish you didn’t taste so sweet.
 
Sally you don’t have to go run away,
I don’t know why you’ve gotta worry me,
Write me when you find somewhere dry to stay.
I’d like to find out what you want to be.
 
Sally just try to keep me in the know,
I would follow you anywhere you go.

Eyes so icy; like the heart of her mother,
Burning the air; and matched by another’s,
But that’s fine,
The feelings divine,
I like how it hurts once in a while.

A smile and a few words could melt me down,
Just a puddle for her to walk through on the ground;
And that’s alright,
She’s such a sight,
I can ignore all the lies.

Throw away the makeup and perfume,
And she can still steal any room.
She’s perfect,
I’m an addict,
I get my fix some of the time.

Idyllic dreams of untold Rome’s and Paris’
Caught in the constellations of slashed wrists;
She’s shattered.
I’m enamored.
This girl with be the death of me.

What feeling do you inflict upon my lips
That ought be saved for someone else
What feeling do i invoke between your hips
That may be the root of our own hells