How long will you
leave that body
on the screen?

the gasp of lungs, the veins are wrung

how many numb
limbs flung
must be seen?

Woeful are the twisted spines
Beauty are the twisted pines
the likeness of these knotted twines
is comic in my mind's eye
but they still cry

Both took many moons to ravel
One will stay and one will travel
Until the stones turn into gravel
Until one lies down to die
The other still grasping for sky
the likeness of these knotted twines
is comic in my mind's eyes
but they still cry
for the twisted.

no matter how harsh my shush
my eyes still shout
"look at us!"
to passersby

no matter how loud my love
my lips still open
without sound
when I'm alone

no matter how strong my self
my teeth still clench
when I think
myself crazy

no matter how deep my death
my ears still hear
your last jest
in the dark

don't cry
no matter how evil I am

I colored my hair
so that I could shout without
opening my mouth

the colors are gone
washed away, except for blue
is that ironic?

There's a woman inside of me
that feels the things I cannot.

I know this because,
one day,
I felt her screaming.
Shaking the ceiling beams
of my body.

Then I listened.
I could hear her weeping
when she thought I was asleep,
and her tears stained my pillow.

I've never seen her.
Her self is forever covered
by the confines of my own soul.

I wish to set her free
but  my voice hurts her ears
too much to ask how.

Sometimes,
when I hear you laugh,
I can almost pick out a familiar bell,
one note familiar, in that chord
from your throat.

I imagine her face to be yours,
but I guess I won't know
until I learn to speak softly.

While trying to sleep
I have become aware
that the more familiar
my environment
the more hostile
my action.
So don't come too close.

The poster above my bed
asks my Why?
as I try to sleep.
It gives me something to do
while i fall asleep

Why do I neglect
my loves
why do I neglect?
why do familiar
objects of fancy
lose my respect?
Why do I neglect?

still trying to sleep,
her face flashing
behind my eyes,
Why did I do those drugs?
Did you do them too?
then maybe you know
why i feel so good.
why i feel so bad.
why i feel at all.

Listening
through to
the other side of the window
pane.
The wind is a beast
scared as I but outside
making the least
of his mist and leaves hide.

Oh, if i were the wind
Oh, to be about
to be limbless
to be thoughtless
to be free.

Why do I share these
insomniac's musings?
I guess
The eye inside my head
likes to be looked at

Only now do I sleep,
with wish-clouded vision.
this is my demon
called Indecision.

I wish I were the wind,
to be a beast free,
I wish I were the wind,
I wish I wasn't me.

Why?
the poster above my bed
still asks.

Why do I feel so good?
Why do I feel so bad?
Why do I feel at all?

there's something about
the people you don't know
that makes you laugh

the old men escorts
babble while we whisper
they make you laugh

cold fingered hipsters
who talk **** cause they can
have made you laugh

"what are you doing?"
"just playing" i would say
and then you'd laugh

bleary blue eyed boys
good intentions twisted
have made you laugh

and yes even I
still blue eyed and bleary
will make you laugh

there's something about
the people you don't know
that makes you cry

the old men escorts
babble while we whisper
they make you cry

cold fingered hipsters
who talk **** cause they can
have made you cry

"what are you doing?"
"just playing" i would say
and then you'd cry

bleary blue eyed boys
good intentions twisted
have made you cry

and yes even I
still blue eyed and bleary
will make you cry