at the end of the night, my hands are dead...

you want

love, that can't

be true.

my heart

is out, and

my hands are

through..

as your eyes

do glow,

(morning dew)

and my

life is over.

when i have

you.

driftawaymysleepless giant...

drift away my

ssleepless giant,

and find yourself

on a sea of silent...

(silence)

fog machine..-

and dance away,,

to the middle grey.

the hapless man

and the perfume cave.

and the days go bye w/death in hand

I am not.

with not him.

day go bye.

(have no whim)

i do think,

for not him.

so lets have not,

to tell 'em..

the unbearable emptiness of being.

my house is a hill. and my feet like mountains. as i climb up to the top every day in and day out. all the while sleeping at the bottom. and as i finally get to the top. i find that the summit is cold, deserted. and dead. and the snow drifts silently in the night.

and this is how i feel everyday i get home. a married man for four years now. even though the last year or so has been, how do i say, distant. living in a home with a stranger i think i might have one time known. and my foot steps echo in the hall ways, bounce off the walls and give me a slight feeling i am not alone. i can feel her warmth next to me as the night makes its way through the room. our conversations are stagnant. and it doesnt seem like she can look me in the eye.

i have tried many time s to surprise her. gifting her when she first get s home. but she is not really here. and sometimes i am not really sure if i am either. i like to walk throughout the city to get away from the mitigated disaster i so reluctantly call home. and the city is a quiet sound. so full of noise. death. and the clashing of emotional opposition.

i can still remember when we first met. so full of love. togethor the two of us fighting off the hazards of the outside world. and everything back then was so colorful. so full of hope. (and destiny). the first time i layed eyes on her i knew one day we would be one. chasing her for as long as i know. and the day it finally came to fruition. and these are my thoughts as i rumble around the city of the dead. the buildings hovering over each other. as coffee shops litter the streets like dead animals. and sometimes i feel all is lost. but i wont go down without a fight.

everyone will eventually someday leave you

leave
with must

sleep by after

but what
will he

felt have
after

less do think

(and run
did he)

hers will hit
in time me.......

sitting on the branches of trees

why would you
gone away

some stare
honey

ache and
pain

has he only,
love like
they

all but
could, weak
with pain...

bitter death...

bitter
death of
men. are
not.

(say)

ask her
screaming
forest

andstill
...

watch the
drooling
water swim
in sea...

Inthegrips of yourSparrowinghands (or excerpts from)

As i look over the man gives me a wink in his all but dead face. his eyes are graves. and his fingers tap on the wood as if i am ever second closer to being on the six o clock news. Outside the sun falls through the clouds and warms the streets. and people do parade in an individualistic stereotype of one another. all is calm. the cold has subsided (somewhat) and the sun irradicates the clouds above. I start off down the street as the storefront windows glisten and glow and call me over. and in the corner of my eye the diner begins to show up. I pause for a bit, mull it over and decide maybe i should stop by for a appearance. Inside the seats are empty, the floors are cracked. and the fans whirrr, hum and try to make their way free. behind the counter a lady stands leaning over and bored. her skin is attempting to drop to her knees. and the sparkle in her eyes are lightbulbs in the process of going dim.

Lets go dancing said the wildflower to the grassroots

lets go inside and find the area of expertise that has self contained itself in order for your wonderful stimulation process. to run through the patterns and i lost my head once. my eyes wont look at me anymore. and my hands change bodily fluids without me knowing. my hairs afraid of itself and my nose keeps complaining about the smell. my heart fell apart and joined my knees. my arms are ugly but my chest disagrees. i have a fine ass my friend just ask my teeth. my eyebrows have rampant discussions with each other while my ears are being cleaned. and did i tell you my back talks behind my back while i am not looking. my chins a feminist and goes to rallies to meet chicks. it brings them home and has wild misinterpretations with them. my bald head is balding and is thinking of and dismemberment plan. my head aches and my eyes are sore. wonderful witty and not withstanding my bottom lip has sexual aggression towards my upper lip.
lets go dancing said the wildflower to the grassroots. we are different but the weather is sure nice and the trees shall be jealous. the orchids are my only friend said the redrose petal to the tulip but be sure i am not not falling for your husband. the dirt is clean i washed it last night. the spoon is embracing the knife you say. lets go claim the bedroom window is having relations with the kitchen whore the coffee table. you see one and most likely you see the other. my light bulbs a genius it can generate its own electricity. lets have it down mister bossman your memory has already told me the facts. my bodies going thru a tough time right now and it would appreciate it if you would apologize.

Outside the lights are damaged, and the people are gone. the buildings are mournful, and the window is fogged up. the apartment inside my house is dead silent. and i 'm lonely, still (and half dead). all the eyes on the outside are on me, the walls are talking. and the dripdripdripping of the faucets driving me anywhere but down. i woke up this morning in a house that isnt mine, the world past my fogged up window is not my own. and i dont know what to do with myself. this life before me was not very prosperous in the first place. so my mind races through the empty rooms and begin to start to make up things on its own. maybe i should venture forth, out the door and into the hall. or maybe i should stay here and wait for this world to end (or start up again) . and so i determine to get up and try my hand at the door that opens to a world that isnt there. i figure, whats the worst that could happen. i might not exist anyways...

In a beautiful lonileness of a hazy dream.

outside the ice is retreating, floating back in the air from whinst it came. and the sky is a darkish grey. the cold emanates my bones and breaks the spirits, but the day has just begun.
my tiny apartment seems to slowly swallow me whole. and i sit on my bed. fully dressed, with my grey suit on. staring at the cracks in the wall. awaiting for the time to get up and go. today is the day of the first day on the job. doing papers and paperwork, watching the people through the windows pass by on there constant attempt at non instability. and just now from thinking about it i am feeling tired. last night was a dismal dream, dreaming of being able to sleep.
and as the clock rings out , calling me to my feet. i slowy get up and differentiate myself from the chair. and so i put my gloves on, open the door, and let in another day. as i walk down the street i find the people are huddled against themselves. their breathe frozen in mid air just out in front of them. and the clouds scatter the sky like a broken windshield. the buildings tower overhead like desolate mountains. and the wind spins through the city freezing everything to the bone.
the city seems quite when in the grips of death. the cars are glazed over skeletal remains. and strange creatures huddle in not wanting to come out. and its wierd how the city works. small villages withen greater cities. where on your street you know most everyone. and i cant help but say hello to the few and far between. and my nerves are racking up like mountains. as the view from here is desolate and lonely.
i have never been the one to make friends, never knew quite how. like some great barrier surrounds me. blocked off from the world. never has stopped me from trying though.
and now its the city that turns a subtle grey, as the fog moves in masking the city in a dull glaze. and everything seems to appear out of nowhere. showing there face shortly while in the midst of fading away. now that i think about it. it almost seems like the ingrediant of life, that everyone will eventually someday leave you.

everywhere i look i find myself staring back

everything is cold in the dead of night, people are wandering the dark corners of the city. afraid to show there faces. the streets put on a different face in the blanket of darkness. the windows are watching you and the buildings are hiding in plain sight. and so i have not too far yet. my eyes scan the far reaches of the earth. penetrating the darkness with closed eyes. and i dont know what might happen, and i dont know how i might fall. and do i see a dark figure by my side. do i see a ghost. so now i keep on walking , just a little faster. and the door up ahead is reaching out for me. but with a quite stint of madness. i find myself pulling open, and fallen through.

untitled.

the streets are lighted up like street lights. and the buildings are hollow. the side walks are flooded with trees. and the air is dense. all the people walk tirelessly throughout the city. but my days are long. and have been. for what seems like years.

for my days have ended for so many years now. my eyes are black and my mind is fogged up with unnessecary incarnations of death. and now seems like a good time to go. for the clouds are parting. and the sun is on its way.

the endless cataclysm of old ideas...


I am your broken heart.... and all i want to do is breathe. i am my own guilty pleasure... cause all i want is your disease. the nights crackle, and the days sing... like trees.

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.