Open chested memories,
Tell the stories on my skin,
Grace shivers with the visions,
Of ivy cigarettes and inhaled nothings,
Childlike reminders to the gut punch morals,
Nightmare laced twilights,
With too many names caught in the sweat,
Stuck with a golden heat,
And a wild set of veins

It's hard to talk on the phone
Can't quite focus on what they're saying
Stuttering and stammering for words
At loss for what to say
Then you have the words again
You say the words you mean to say
They come out sounding weak and jagged,
Meek and lame
And you feel useless in the department of speaking
Your heart beats and jumps wildly at the attention you never wanted, the attention that seems to put an untold amount of pressure and judgement upon you
You never feel like talking again, except to maybe voice an opinion someone might actually care about
You panic when someone new talks to you
Heart thumping madly to get out of your chest, telling you to get out of this situation

This is not a cold, not the flu
Not something you can get over too

I saw bright sun with blazing shine.
Its behaviour, demeanor masculine.
Armoured like some ancient knight.
Protector of his queen, ready to fight.

I saw shy moon with soothing shine.
Its behaviour, demeanor feminine.
Charms hiding 'tween clouds at night.
As if longing for some armoured knight.

Now think if moon becomes sun.
No night, dreams or romance, none;
Or else entire world needs to turn gay.
What do you think, what do you say?

tonight there's a fire in texas
& it's screaming out for the all the bodies it's lost there
in some grand american war
in someone else's glorious battle

the backyard tree was too high for you to climb
& so you took a jaunt to the brooklyn bridge and jumped
to see what it was like to fly

& tonight there's a fire in her chest that bleeds
for her father's bones to be buried next to hers
even though for years he didn't know her name
or what her laugh sounded like
i guess he forgot to check the post

& tonight there's a broadcast on the radio
the presidents been assassinated
& somehow that's your fault
for being to open about your love for your best friend, tom
who also happens to be a boy

& tomorrow there'll be an earthquake in memphis
& it'll be because there's too much *** on tv
god must be flapping his wings hard enough to shake
our great and grand scheme of things

& yesterday a little girl lay awake in her bed
counting her ribcage to make sure she can see every bone
she's praying she won't lose track of them under the meat

& tonight i will drink a tall glass of wine
so i can feel something
other than all the pain we've created for each other