4am dream sequence

No one is available for questioning the doors have been shut and the key has been thrown away to protect the innocent from traveling down a road at 95 like a roller coaster ride with cemeteries on both sides through woods that have tourist shops in trees that work their way down alleyways with long red halls and fortune tellers for a buck twenty-five bring ticket stubs for movie theater shows glass windows that cost too much on wharfs with an ocean made of stones duck under the tidal wave in order to survive resurface again to find a stage performed with bare light bulbs and mirrors of an invisible reflection to grow and spin a song around a room with dusty air and empty thrones on platform kings and hill top queens to throw vases on the ground they crash to pieces and rebound into a rage onto your knees so give up and watch the camera leave.

Try to swallow it without letting it get to your head

Something is in the air; breathe it in and let it settle
Things will be different soon,
If you let it
Oh, take thy spine and crush it under-foot
Does it not break apart as easily as sand?
Art thou senses deceived?
Indeed!
For the silver bullet in my side
Doesn't compare to the pitchfork in your throat
So eat the words that spell your name
You think you're falling now girl, wait until you reach the top!
The high altitude will choke you worse than those words so
s
t
o
p
until you've reached the edge

the constant pressure of language and motion.

If actions speak louder than words
You heard
"I must be whispering instead of shouting
Movements."
But that wasn't my intention,
You see
We're both just mumbling about through
Doubts
So now things are building up and pushing forward
"To what,
Where and why?"
I ask enough times in silence
To your back,
Another single day or
Chance meetings, hit or miss
Waiting for something to shift
Is like murmurs on my hands
Or sighs along your fingertips
It's not a fabrication of lies
To say the least
Sitting down the other day
Was a paragraph from your eyes
An action followed by others
Makes me consider things differently.

If hearts were as strong as bone, then most people wouldn't have any problems at all

I'm going to keep my feet on the ground, because why should I
bother moving them if they won't make any impression or sound on pavement or
with you?
That's why when I follow you around you hear nothing of my footsteps, only silence, as
though I were transparent and everything simply went
through the floor rather than upon it,
and it's echo goes around and around, circling the perimeter of the room,
so you're bound to hear it eventually.
But not yet. And I
figured my translucent figure would help, but perhaps it hasn't at all, and has only made
me less recognizable as someone you once knew.
And my voice isn't one for speaking bravely, only for pleading apologies;
"I'm sorry I feel this way"
or;
"I'm making an honest effort to do something right for once"
So I try to type them out instead so that they are clearer, more opaque, and less
susceptible to be twisted or misunderstood,
but even that is impossible as long as I am too smoke-like to punch at the keys
So I'll just glide over them in though...always in thought and never in action.
Because action requires the strength of real matter such as bones, tendons, and muscle tissue,
veins, nerves and cells,
and smoke does not carry such weight and power
And without the heaviness and force of gravity,
I cannot be kept upon the ground, and the sky is
too expansive for me to dissolve in, so something less than bone will have to break soon.

Laughter locked in Bathrooms

Stepping over stones is hard when the ringing of telephones keeps you uneasy
But I'll stay and help with a flick of the wrist
My subtle slight of hand, quick wit hits the screen
And we'll talk about things that relate to our lives
Only one sided and one point of view
Taken from a camera's lens in black and white timed frozen frame
Princess crown and evening gown with headphone ears and dried up tears
Carry you from film to film to dance the dance of Japanese school girl laughs
Missa Ed brown eyes love you long time
You're in the MItt of state's shaped lakes bring arctic chill to Boot stated fate
In the city's summer it'll be strangers in the street so move to the coast where it's easier to
breath in New England tree leaves
Fall to the ground, swirl so proud, singing out loud to tape deck sound
We'll have rock show moments that prove the madness of the greatest mistake
But it'll be okay so fly through airport guards to reach the runway retreat
Getting past yourself is the greatest defeat to those to prove wrong

This is the sound of decline

This is the fall of the western world
It unraveled in dollars and cents and crumbled upon busy street corners
Until it descended into dust and dirty oil reservoirs
Now the stop lights won't functions and synchronized patterns
This is the day I missed you by a crack in the sidewalk where only blades of grass
Managed to push through the broken cement slabs
And I lost you when you were taken long ago and it's true you're not coming back
I wonder where your bones are buried and whether weeds or flowers mark where they lie
You're the closest thing to someone dying I've had in recent times
This is the swan song of the last five years
It is catalogued in a messy box of photographs stashed between bookends
And are later looked upon in dim light and background music
Neither floating above a whisper
This is what I remember, my cellar door opened and it sounded like a horse neighing and
The closing of my window echoed a muddled reply
I feel the house was asking me not to leave
The lilacs outside my window repeated the same thing in rain drops
Each is not without its arguments; each will not win their war of sedated noise
These are the moments of deja vous
Except the coloring and timing is slightly different from the first time
But it feels just as authentic and the pictures are just as blurry
This is the fall of the civilized world
These are the decaying ruins of past days
This is the time that must not be forgotten
This is the thing I leave to the dreamers

everything goes in circles, circles in goes everything

spring has sprung the day's begun so pack up your broken pieces put a smile on and lets get going
the morning sun suits your whiteness best but goes unnoticed yawning out the beginning hours
because the dawn is a sad time of quiet restlessness and swelling shadows cast upon silence of
dew saturated grass blades and fallen pale petals left from 'love you nots'
the day is a parade that continues on and on until night falls like spilt ink over a 'dear john' letter
it is not the absence of life, just the absence of light
so you've got your own midnight oil to burn, your own moon soaked canopy to lie beneath, your own glowing firefly lamp
pointing out the stars that shine north and south with connecting constellations spanning generations,
all within a small window box of space that comets penetrate, everything else standing still
yet time goes on and on
and we only move within ourselves
until we cannot remember the original question that started it all