Listening to these depressing songs.
It's ironically giving me the will to be strong,
And I don't mind if they're being played for long.
They're making the oceans of my heart rift,
Letting my soul drift in the cold water.

Staring up into the sun,
Ironically it seems fun.

Dipping in my own sorrow,
Urging me to press play,
Again and again,
Making me feel a little bit insane.

I'm enjoying dwelling in my inexplicable pain,
Making me realize,
That maybe,
Sometimes,
One can be happy by just being sad.

I'm not really good at not killing things
Especially the things I love

You gave me a rose bush
And I, and I lit it on fire
That's what you call desire

I'm misguided
My soul trajectory is off
Just like cupid plays with arrows of love
Sometimes God messes up
We are all astray



In this cosmic chaos
But I still met you and try love, you
In my misguided way

I try to put that soul into every cigarette I smoke
Inhale, choke, definetly definetly go broke
Because you can try
But, but it is all rigged like carnival
We're the ones telling ourselves the lies

We are Adam and Eve
As far as knowledge
We are only seeds

You can be certain of nothing
and anything
Superposition
You are, you are the fiction

Those petals, I want them to burn like those lies in September, the end the Summer kind of heat, humid like rainshowers above head in your throat in your lonely lonely bed.

So I put the cigarette down in an ashtray in a mirror house
I am tiny
I have breathed most of my life out

In ways my reflection is changing

There's something so sick about
        this emotional capacity

Before breakfast we plant atomic bombs in our neighbors yard
                                                            ­   like bulbs of (glad)iolus
Haven't you noticed how much gardens look like graveyards

My cereal, ceiling, bathroom, and skin
        All say Made in China
This homeland is looking more like that land
Ughhh and you can see the blood in my pink nail polish from that sweat shop girl
It's not supposed to be RED!

ooOooopps did we just learn how to commercialize genocide
I'm wondering when I'll wake up with a barcode
Will it be on my eyelids
             my arms                                           my soul

Maybe God was in the bees
And now
Now there's no more honey, flowers, or trees
  
                       Just time.

My brothers both went to war
It's not Wal-Mart
But it's open 24/7, checkout through Heaven
And I don't think they're coming home

Not without bones implanted in their brains
sharp, jagged, broken ones
That kind that make you uncomfortable with your memories
The one's that make it hard to sleep

Last week I found a dead cat
  A dead bird in the snow
When I turned around the corner, I saw myself

I was lying in the street
          Dead, dead
And I felt nothing

Don't invest your time in people
Invest your time in God

Most people are a waste
Only around for your good taste

You tell them lets elevate
they rather sit around and wait

So much on there plate
But with the drama
There're  never late

Don't let them take you out of your zone
When your dreaming at night
Remember your alone

Lynn Browning ©

As you gracefully continue your life,
I'll be waiting.
Hoping.
Deteriorating.
We didn't share much, but it was real,
Was it?
Or was it all a game? A lie?
Maybe I'll taste love too soon
Too much...
I get drunk on that thought, I crave that feeling.
To live.
To breathe.
To be something.
Anything!
But as I stare into your meaningless, distant eyes, a void fills me up.
It crawls to my heart, to my soul.
And it whispers untill I cannot stand it anymore.
The thought of not being with you...