i enjoy this alot.

she's the teenage laugh that shadows crow's love, and the uncontrolled convulsions with a cackled "shut up."
there's nothing that she does that i could forget. she's stuck like a tumor inside of my head.
Brain's burned dry by the heat of passion's flames.
there's two bodies entwined, caught up in the blaze.
(it's the 3rd degree. from downtown to your gated community.)

there's a thunder in his stomach, it rattles the Hermes lamps in his apartment.
it's a hunger inside for injustice, as he hops onto the ladder from the barbed wire fence.
he creeps onward toward the sky, seeping through the dark.
his anorexic cave is subdued by feeding on the homeless hearts.

there's a life i'm seeing that i'm quite likely to take,
cos there's promises i've been keeping that i wass too dumb to make.
and everyone here loves to coment on how i'm doing things wrong.
the world won't be a better place, until they're the ones gone.
Please get some medication.

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"there's nothing like dreaming we'll collide.
my shit-faced grin and your hand-stitched eyes.
coz they went missing from the County Fair.
and now i see them resting right there.
you must be blind. you must not cry.
you must not feel the itch that urges us to try.
coz there's a piece of glass stitched into your eye."
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don't know if this has been published or not

the windows were left open
the evening that winter came
and there they stayed
for month by months, and months on end,
until all the green grass was dead.
but then, by spring we were both surrounded.
dark as night, winter remained,
purging joy from my head.
i spoke aloud, just to be ignored,
and you just stared
out that window, like nothing mattered
and you no longer cared.
so i just prayed and dreamed for the day
when i can give in.

the green shades of the windowsill
reflect themselves onto your face.
it's an image i cannot forget,
with the moonlight fading.
devoured by broken clouds
like the bitter pieces of the youthful dream
that someday it'll be okay
for us to give in.

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don't know if this is up here already or not.

Desperate Terms

Desperate terms pleaded by a desperate man
who’s been tried and sentenced to his death
for a crime he’s positive he didn’t commit.
his days are given numbers, but now he’s down to minutes.
as he swallows the knot in his throat, he whispers, “this has gotta be a test.”

His hands are temples where holy things happen.
Can’t retract his smile, he’s looking like a mad-man.
He wakes up in the wet grass with others’ blood on his hands
and a narcoleptic body to meet his subconscious demands.

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i gave this to nick, and he wrote a better second verse that i don't have. he played it for joy, and she cried and kept making him play it. this song's leading to a real band for me. =)


(Untitled #50)
Standing on the corner of Martyr and Idiot
your hair, is it caught by the wind,
as you throw yourself into that crowd
of people all poised to attack?
but now you’re not really sure what you were thinking
and you are begging and wishing
that these actions
could be taken back.

but we can’t
and there’s many reasons why
your pretty head has become so bothered
that you just watch the present pass you by.
living in moments that we’ve already conceived;
not understanding that you’re stuck in memories
that they’re wiping clean.

do you remember the day our block flooded,
I was eight and you were twelve?
we walked in the high water
our feet turning forty shades of blue.
and just nine years later this place has turned to hell
for both me and you.

there’s questions we have never answered
because they lead to so much pain.
but now ignoring them is useless
with you so far away,
residing in your coma,
there’s no reason left to try.
I just want you back in Columbus
so that my heart can finally die.

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