Imaginary dangers aside
There are still many dead pretending their alive.
And I'm presented with another, and another, and another.
They set every appendage on fire.
I got a kiss the night they killed him.
And I walked on the overflowing water
Of my cup's rim.
I wonder what made it all so exciting.
I guess I always think why the apple fell.
God, if you would please still believe in me
Suffocating the flames of hell...
Just no longer would be a fishing tale.
I'm not a lier when I say I care.
In truth I've lost three hundred thousand hairs
Just from imagining if when away.
Are you sleeping well?
I pray you're not one of the dead,
Or the wolves
Or the drunken mirrors
Showing a face existing only in my head.
Monday, May 2, 2011
You're Just Using Time
I don't want to end up writing this all down just to become
A manual for you to interpret.
(I'm not that. No one should ever be that.)
Just because you want to be that doesn't mean I do.
But still when prompted...
I take out the longest piece of lead in preparation for a description.
(But it always breaks against your teeth)
Okay so face it...
You're a god-damned monster
Who pulls their eyes out
(despite blinding yourself)
For others' amusement.
For their golden attention.
And while this being said
We all want to part the covers of your face.
Like we are reading a half written biography.
Yes what you write and do...
Won't be of any interest or use in about five years
(give or take).
Where Gypsy Based Music Plays
The last abortion—
Where everything begins.
The ultimate peace movement.
You see, fish are disappearing
And there used to be no sex classes—
No friendship classes either.
So people are burning the university,
In the elephant's presence.
But I'm not self motivated.
So you take me to the living waters
Where gypsy based music plays.
Not everything approves if you understand,
Where everything begins.
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