Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Clouds.

Paper flower, our adventure
Haunts my dreams
Empty spaces, the contrast of night and artificial light
Air appears so delicate
Openly escaping, denied to fresh lungs
We crawl through
Many passages, they lie beneath the ground
Misinterpret coded language
Upended staircases, find the door to exit the bright
Odd angles disorientate
Disassociate, to prevent knowledge of the date
The sky bleeds
As we, laugh atop a building twenty stories or more
While below us
Lonely pavement, begs for our company



Sunday, October 25, 2009

Hugs for Belle and no one else..

I sit on an imaginary throne of cloy. Growing contiguous with the ceiling. Composed of trickery, smoke and your insipid 'heart'. Seated so tall now, set upon tier after tier of grotesque displays, I behold the prosaic boy's mistake and although my throne is quite unfathomable in height, the depth is only relative to the rhythmical filth sloshing to and fro within the confines of your skull.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Disappear.

The land is grey
the sky, a purple myth
Nobody breathes here
The trees are all rotten
The setting is silent
but no one would care
If you were to scream,
Bloody murder
They'll tell you to
Simply turn up the volume,
On your tv
Walking on broken bones and
Dirty fits
The truth is hard to deny
You only veiw it in
Little bits

The Sparrow caws the bitches name
Her eyes peak out from a surage drain
Covered in flies..
Her soul has died..

The land is grey
But so alone
There is no sky,
No vision to condone
The flame licks away
at it's green and brass fate
Brown paper bags are torn open
In an effort to exploit you
Cigarettes are lit
In such a way, to avoid conversation
These cheating twists knot the rope,
From the tree, so as not to admit
Two nights ago I let him have me!
These white picket fences don't quite reach
To where they should
We ran out of wood!
Ran out of care, (the paint got everywhere)

The Sparrow caws the bitches name
Her eyes peak out from a surage drain
Covered in flies..
Her soul has died..