Dance of the wind, shakes the trees, shakes the sky
Turn of the seasons
Turn of the storm
Sweet Ulyses on a broken tulip, dying
Reaching for the last of time
Within the great mystery.
Oh, holy land walking underneathe feet
With tired eyes and repeated lies -
The carrion song breaks down and cries

Yesterday closes in on thought's illusion
Of telling today to run around
Chasing past days gone
For the sake of youth gone
Crystal eyes and flaccid goodbyes
The carrion song breaks down and cries

Under soft caresses of Nature's glow
Ceases to be, the gift of selfishness
Asleep in the fog

Spinning madly, this rock of earth
Around star sun, a one-eyed Buddha
Taking gravity, magnetic energy
Invisible force
Orange burn, holographic sin
Make the clock jump ahead
Forward in time, backward in rhyme
Poor things of words
Emotionless, bodiless
Detailing worlds, both inner and outer
But never receiving rightful admiration
Or recognition
Oh, sad words of symbolic reference
Lay down your weary tune and collapse
Sink back into the void of a hum

Yesterday opens around thought's illusion
Of showing today the masterplan
When bizarre happenings stir the crowd of mind
'Tis the moment to step out of time
And examine the line,
The dire chime of truth
And thus enters the chance to realize
The carrion song that breaks down and cries

When I wake in the middle of the morning I see your bare body glowing in what is left of the moonlight.
It takes my breath away and suddenly every inch of my skin is fiending to feel you like an addict fresh to rehab.
It's been a few hours since I last touched you, since I fell asleep in your arms,
and now that we have rolled to opposite ends of the bed I need the high back again.
You on top of the covers, and I underneathe, I envelope you the best I can and trace imaginary circles in your hair.
I run my fingers down the side of your face covered with stubble and plant feather-lite kisses across your skin
as your poison soaks into my veins and my heart quickens.

I lay there for hours on this high, watching you sleep with dialated eyes,
and trying to hold back these words that sit at the pearly gates of my teeth.
It's maddening; trying to keep the brigade of how I feel and what I know and how I hope behind the enameled walls.
They fight the barrier and pull at my tongue in an attempt to spill from my shaking lips and crash into the drum of your ears.

But I fear if you knew, you would run.

So instead
I take another hit of you
I regather my composure
and face the day of sobriety ahead.

It was not that far off in time
I was spooning your sleeping self
Cradling your flesh with mine,
Smooth skin underneathe my lips
back pressed against the front of my hips
while I thanked God with eyes squeezed tight
For the dawn that breaks out from every night
And with My breathe synchronizing with yours in Gentle joy
I thanked Him for just the warmth of this body
For just the warmth of this boy

the gravel crackels underneathe my feet
i here the sound of clicking in my step
a peice of gum on my sole makes the noise
i whisper to the wind to carry me away
but it goes threw me like every other day
i wash my face with the mourning dew
and begin the long journey home
my shoes are beaten and my jeans are torn
my body is sore from the hard wood floor
but im on my way face to the sun and hands in my belt loops
i walk past and here the sound of dribbling and swishing hoops
keep me on the right track and let me get home
it wont **** me to have another smoke
my lips taste of last night beer
my face is ****** but i shed no tears
i live in no fear
because home is near

A wobblie stool
is so lame
Everwhere I go to drink or eat
a wobblie stool always the same
infact I look way more drunk because of this **** chair.
I try to kick my foot up to stop it
Try switchin stools
Try to put a box of matches underneathe it.
nothing works
it all boils down
To me not being heavy enough to way it down.

their appearances seem more approachable
their words are tender
their taste in music even gets better
but that doesn't define her

their thoughts are clearer

yet, they never change

(when in doubt, they'll awaken something in the subconscious that will trigger their reaction, it's too late to respond)

their mood becomes dull
in the presence of a hollow skull
with nothing to tell but show underneathe their shirts

they don't change much

in the end, they'll become what they've always been

They are screaming again,
Filling up my head,
Feeling like a wolf in pain,
Wishing upon bloodshed,
Counting one, two, three,
Last breath till I am free,
Just leave me upon the land,
While my bones turn to sand,
Don't lend a helping hand,
Resting here in my woodland,
Maybe I am diseased,
Harder and harder to breathe,
Hatred and destruction, you are all appeased,
Let me rot away to see what underneathe,
Maybe I am religious,
Not content of hateful vicious,
Self harm, self hatred stitches,
Maybe am not catholic, christian, protestant,
Maybe am not like all the rest who are incompetent,
Maybe my nature is that of Mother Earths confident,
Maybe I am not Human,
Maybe I am not what the world expects,
Maybe I am not what you presume,
In the eyes of everyone that evil comsume,
Maybe I am just like the wolves,
Howling at the moon,
Seeing the hate, not thinking of themselves,
Not caring about an offensive cartoon,
Here I am, trying to understand,
The feelings, the emotions,
The fear of what I can't grasp,
Trying to hard, fighting stance.