Wednesday, March 04, 2009

How to show yourself the door.

Five days, in the dead of night.
Where the laughter comes with
Streaks of fight.

Where the up before dawn
Is here but still gone
And the whispering whine
Is time after time.

When at home, Oh glory,
How the clocks melt down,
And the stench of strain
Is a everyday thing
So why oh why cant i
Grow wings…. Or fall down
Blind, so my eyes wont sting.

So off to the ever, and off to the
Green, to climb that sky,
To the burnaway king.

My wings have fallen, my wings have burned...

my wings have fallen, my wings have burned. and the city has eyes, and the buildings migrate like sheep. the streets are lonely, the people.... confused. I sit in the diners and coffee shops, watching the people converse.......... like trees. as the leaves slowly change color, and my cigerette burns. I walk amongst this forest as the trees disperse.
and my mechanical hearts mechanical, and my legs hurt. and the ghosts seem to mumble to each other in broken verse. as my eyes water, but my soul burns.
my heart defect is that of an unknown man....................... Current mood: drained

my heart defect is that of an unknown man. but i am beautiful. and i watch as the angels fly by in a colorful desolation. and i sit alone. the leaves have fallen, and the days are strong. i listen to my heart beat as i pullover and walk to the nearest cafe. and order a coffee, and head out the patio. it seems like the usual faces, haunting every city street, while weaving in and out of the autumn breeze. an the leaves have fallen. i find the only place i can write is road side diners and coffee shops. and the road is my mistress, and the cars not clean. but todays an off day, actually, i havent written anything in weeks. the death of myself...... so i sit here, pen in hand. waiting for the rebirth. sitting back in the chair, smoking a cigerette, on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere...... all surrounded by trees. watching the forest like its watching me. but the people are distant and the grounds clean. and i used to be a city, i used to be the sea. living in the middle of nowhere, where the buildings breed. i remember the morning ritual of the early rise, and the trying to build steam. the fast paced world of a work a holic was a societies dream. and a broken mans disease.
I dug you up to keep you company.

I cleaned the house this morning. to get my mind off of you. the dust has apparently taken a hold of the house, and the walls have coughed up their fair share of hairballs. I haven't been out for days. and the shower has taken its leave. but your eyes fit nicely in the back of my head. while the creatures are all watching my every move. all the furniture looks at me like i am a stranger. as i stand in the middle of the room, sweeping up my fallen heart from the floor. but i can't seem to clean the blood stained blood as the weeks have all but disappeared .
and sitting beside the kitchen window i watch the rain. drunk, with the likes of you. as your smile lights the way through the trees, the great plains suddenlly appear, crackling below my feet. and the monsters have all but vanished. and you sit there watching all the animals do battle against themselves, as the sun falls asleep, just beyond the mountains, just below the sea