Running through the garden again. And breaking stained-glass windows. I like to watch the light cascade down. And bless the people inside. They never know how to react. Everyone just stares. They're missing their chance. I don't know what else I can do to tell them. I've tried everything.
I see you inside. You're standing on the pew trying to get a better look. You always were the type.
I begin to turn away and make my exodus. Before they come running carrying stones yet hurling only insults. I love this intimidation game. I find your eyes. And their intentions are unmistakable....As always.
And I know I'm bringing you with me. My hand through the window. And your feet taking flight. Neither of us really even sure where we're headed anymore. But one thing is for certain....
By the time we're through, even angels will shake, fall, and shatter.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
What Will Happen?
It's been some time. And now we're standing together in public places. There are a thousand electro-light fads walking about sneering in every direction. At least half of them want you. I just want you to know that I know absolutely nothing. Don't think I don't perceive your reticent behavior.
And I find myself inquiring if physical touch is a permissible action that may be taken in such a place as this. You confirm my suspicions. It's OK. If only we were OK.
I'm not so sure I can handle this. I still think I want to try. But things cannot remain this way. Because I promise you that I'll drop you just like yesterday's bad habit.
.
.
.
.
Just to pick you back up again....
"Done, done, and I’m on to the next one."
And I find myself inquiring if physical touch is a permissible action that may be taken in such a place as this. You confirm my suspicions. It's OK. If only we were OK.
I'm not so sure I can handle this. I still think I want to try. But things cannot remain this way. Because I promise you that I'll drop you just like yesterday's bad habit.
.
.
.
.
Just to pick you back up again....
"Done, done, and I’m on to the next one."
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Phase
One of those school kid crushes. I think I held it for years. And I never did make the first move. He came in eventually. My friend tried to save me. Of course, I didn't listen. Do I ever in these situations? Actually....He couldn't have known that yet. I was just getting started....
Just a phase....And I want to forget....
I was running out of ideas. Thought I'd give love a try. Got lost in the mix-up, toss-up, throwing up when I got back. Giving him back every feeling I ever once held. Because I didn't want them anymore. Too heavy and most definitely not ready.
Just a phase....And I want to forget....
And I can listen to death metal. I can. And I will. I can hate everyone. The animosity bleeds out from under my eyelids. And everybody knows it.
Just a phase....And I want to forget....
He tells me that he lied. I want to know why he's disclosing this now. I want to know. Just like I always want to know everything. I want to tell him it's OK. But I've already changed. And I want to take him in my arms. Slowly smooth his hair....And tear his limb from limb; rip that beautiful face apart. Because I know I stated this several times before we ever even started. I only asked for one thing.
"Don't lie to me."
He took that offer and ran with it. Ran straight down my throat. Sometimes I can still feel the footprint scars and the pain that accompanies them....I try to not make such stupid requests anymore....I want to know why I changed for another. I only make one promise to myself these days.
Never again.
But, as always....
Just a phase....And I want to forget....
.
.
.
.
But what will I remember?
Just a phase....And I want to forget....
I was running out of ideas. Thought I'd give love a try. Got lost in the mix-up, toss-up, throwing up when I got back. Giving him back every feeling I ever once held. Because I didn't want them anymore. Too heavy and most definitely not ready.
Just a phase....And I want to forget....
And I can listen to death metal. I can. And I will. I can hate everyone. The animosity bleeds out from under my eyelids. And everybody knows it.
Just a phase....And I want to forget....
He tells me that he lied. I want to know why he's disclosing this now. I want to know. Just like I always want to know everything. I want to tell him it's OK. But I've already changed. And I want to take him in my arms. Slowly smooth his hair....And tear his limb from limb; rip that beautiful face apart. Because I know I stated this several times before we ever even started. I only asked for one thing.
"Don't lie to me."
He took that offer and ran with it. Ran straight down my throat. Sometimes I can still feel the footprint scars and the pain that accompanies them....I try to not make such stupid requests anymore....I want to know why I changed for another. I only make one promise to myself these days.
Never again.
But, as always....
Just a phase....And I want to forget....
.
.
.
.
But what will I remember?
Friday, May 8, 2009
Five Lifetimes Ago
The best option left for you now
I'm warning you this time
Is to leave me far behind
I suggest you form some strategy
To erect impenetrable oceans, continents, and even lifetimes between us, angel
Because I've always been the worst of you
I've slowly been the death of you
And even I never realized it
It's good to put your faith in something
But I choose to be co-dependant on no one
You know, I'd walk straight through Hell for you
But I have to make my own way to Heaven some time
"As if I’d fall to pieces in the wake of your design."
I'm warning you this time
Is to leave me far behind
I suggest you form some strategy
To erect impenetrable oceans, continents, and even lifetimes between us, angel
Because I've always been the worst of you
I've slowly been the death of you
And even I never realized it
It's good to put your faith in something
But I choose to be co-dependant on no one
You know, I'd walk straight through Hell for you
But I have to make my own way to Heaven some time
"As if I’d fall to pieces in the wake of your design."
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Planned Obsolescence
We've been transfigured into the muted words stapled along their jawlines
What they never remembered or thought to mention
And the word escapes me at the moment, but maybe it never existed in the first place.
And local color, and spectral forces, the grotesque and absurd. Myth and structure and degeneration. Family and new forgeries.
I am become a demon.
But there was a time, there was a...
Blood spilled, choirs sang, and I'm afraid I must have been asleep in a ditch somewhere miles and miles away.
What they never remembered or thought to mention
And the word escapes me at the moment, but maybe it never existed in the first place.
And local color, and spectral forces, the grotesque and absurd. Myth and structure and degeneration. Family and new forgeries.
I am become a demon.
But there was a time, there was a...
Blood spilled, choirs sang, and I'm afraid I must have been asleep in a ditch somewhere miles and miles away.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
He Takes it in His Hand, and....
And I pass the man with all the answers. He knows absolutely everything. He told me so. He lights his cigar and waves it brilliantly before me. Then, he sends it to the ground. Ashes we all become.
God's busy doing business things with other busy business people. They're trying to get back in the Garden again. But those flaming swords seems to introduce a minor problem. They never stop. They're always levitating, rotating, blocking entrance. Always. Perpetual motion.
And in my sin I look up and pray to the sky, and there I behold all I ever had wished to know. Every bird struck down in midflight through the fiery sky. Every cloud punctured like worn material. The damage of age dealt in an instant. And everyone around me blessed with fire. They appear to be so innocent as they sink to their knees and cry out for mercy to the omnipotent heavens raining judgment. I wish I could be like them. I wish I could catch the spirit of the flame....I do.
In my skin I see the way. My Tao. It's in grooves. It's in everyone, everywhere. Weaving in and out, past follicles. Imperfections. Scars. Wounds that time could never really heal. It's nice to know the fire could light the path. And maybe then I could see where my feet should tread....along my own skin. Such a delicate process. It's nice to know the fire could scorch the hairs into nothing....smooth the way. Makes everything so much simpler....But it always leaves its mark. And once again, I can never forget.
He kept it from us. So, I had no other choice.
I burned the Garden. It's in ashes now.
Left the man with all the knowledge in its center, and ran away laughing into the night. I watched the sky turn black just before the heavens painted themselves richly with life and vibrance. Transcended us, our state, and changed to red. Just before it all came down, and the world was ripe with destruction.
And in my sin, my imperfection, I had to question why I was never to be allowed access there again. If we can't have it, then no one can. I'll send everything into oblivion.
God's busy doing business things with other busy business people. They're trying to get back in the Garden again. But those flaming swords seems to introduce a minor problem. They never stop. They're always levitating, rotating, blocking entrance. Always. Perpetual motion.
And in my sin I look up and pray to the sky, and there I behold all I ever had wished to know. Every bird struck down in midflight through the fiery sky. Every cloud punctured like worn material. The damage of age dealt in an instant. And everyone around me blessed with fire. They appear to be so innocent as they sink to their knees and cry out for mercy to the omnipotent heavens raining judgment. I wish I could be like them. I wish I could catch the spirit of the flame....I do.
In my skin I see the way. My Tao. It's in grooves. It's in everyone, everywhere. Weaving in and out, past follicles. Imperfections. Scars. Wounds that time could never really heal. It's nice to know the fire could light the path. And maybe then I could see where my feet should tread....along my own skin. Such a delicate process. It's nice to know the fire could scorch the hairs into nothing....smooth the way. Makes everything so much simpler....But it always leaves its mark. And once again, I can never forget.
He kept it from us. So, I had no other choice.
I burned the Garden. It's in ashes now.
Left the man with all the knowledge in its center, and ran away laughing into the night. I watched the sky turn black just before the heavens painted themselves richly with life and vibrance. Transcended us, our state, and changed to red. Just before it all came down, and the world was ripe with destruction.
And in my sin, my imperfection, I had to question why I was never to be allowed access there again. If we can't have it, then no one can. I'll send everything into oblivion.
75% Screaming, 15% Singing, the Rest is a Tragedy
Matchbook this romance
I'll get the gasoline
And you can gather the pieces
As the walls and ceiling converge
Then "Come a bit closer, and I will hand you a shovel to dig yourself out."
All I ask is you give it back when you're done
I'll get the gasoline
And you can gather the pieces
As the walls and ceiling converge
Then "Come a bit closer, and I will hand you a shovel to dig yourself out."
All I ask is you give it back when you're done
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