Irony being lost, Like a child talking. Cronos, to gods, Phobos, to mars, Either way, Inside, we lose who we are. Women in bands, Drumming of hands, When did the doldrum begin? By the future, to the past, Like a life in idle hands.
I never wanted in your crowd of clowns, White facing, red around the mouth. Red upon the head, Laughed at by the town. It's either powder now, or power down. Also guys to date, Hands to guide her down, Lyrics about Rape, and cries fowl. I never wanted to be a mouthpiece, Or spit on by a coward. Cheered on by the crowd, Toward a violent outcome. Injection of faith, Truth, silent about H, Without the vowel sounds, Expressing your rage. I never wanted to look the same, Jacked up retard dancing on stage, Also guys to shame, Amelia Earheart is on the way.
Love from the art class... Is everything the same, Or have you changed perhaps? If my tomorrow never came, Am I still just some faggot, That never had your respect? We both know front to back, When it comes to class, but What about our crossed paths? Does it matter, about the facts? Whether I fell to able hands, You would rather write about it, You already decided, so sing that, And when you finally do get to it, You shove it up your ass. Love, from the bottom of my heart, They never taught you art in class, And you never learnt good taste, Is everything the same? No... I would say you changed, perhaps, But you never had any fuckin class. And, that comes from me... Love, from the art class, All the way to the current of my heart: Things have changed, It's better you stay hard, man, A wave from across the bar. Far away, like your honest thoughts.
He puts on a cap, Face like his dads, So they clap, Regardless, for all he lacks, Is what lover's want. Please come back, Please come back, He begs to a darkness, Change my path. Away, my hands, Take my grasp, At the other end, nothing Date, time stamp.
Seeing his window, He thinks of rain, Is this for always? Water, over my face... He thinks of charades, Seeing his heroes, He thinks about change, Hands cover his face, Is this for always?
Shadow cast across their skin, Romance, Allow me a dance along thin, White lines with darker ends. Value passed through generation, Thank you, and oft veneration, And off to the races, White lines drawn to darker ends. And Why is it, he beats me still? Alas, Answers, White lies to darker ends. Romance, allow me a dance, Along lines, dark wide expanse, Around what lies in my bed, Along legs and under hands. I watch as the white lines dance, Eyes: water, shut. Demands... Then an end to nice guy acts, I'm not the one, but for now, I am.
Fire, flames upon a hoop, I, am drawn. Eraser, Dissolve, dissolute. Child's play, inside a room, Drive talk, eyes and hearts, Upon her arm, should she draw? Never again can she feel loss, I, am drawn, she says, to darkness, Never again will she see stars, Never again will she be wrong, Never again can she feel love. Eraser, darker hues. Paper rips in two, Reddish shade of blue, Fire, flames upon a hoop.
Easel, muse, what is fate? My eyes no longer meet it, My hands no longer make. Like a glove conceals a ring, Kind words, greater schemes. I must run like we were kids, I love drugs, love the feelings, I love the girl. Sober realism... Stare into the distance, Eventually you see the same, Tomorrow, is a little late
Where does the red end? Bench press, breath test, Desk chair, ceiling fan: You hope to get to live again. Jump rope, feeling breasts, Best friends, sleeping bags. Then into the night, like assent... That's a life you never lived. Town by town, you lay a brick, Build a house, inhale a bit. Where, from does cedar sprout? Far away from shit like this. How are you about playing music? Cedar necks, hands tight around, Beating skin, women. Beans again, Upon a page then: demons, hell. What is a stranger, to a friend? Follower, liar, charlatan, I would never knew, you were never there.
Red about the hands, Red about demands, Red a henhouse lacks. Red, ten ounce glass, Half gin, half cognac. So it's red inside, out, Red from front to back.
Blood on my hands, On my shoulderblades, Her hands, my blood. Blood on her hands, On my shoulderblades, Less nine months. This man I love, This man I trust. But he could kidnap my son, So send him to god.
I see yellow, blue in disbelief. Spiritual sterility, misdeeds, Financial instability, tricks, Affinity for weed. Advocate for your beliefs, Maybe, about that, you should sing, Not wordsmiths, suicidal tendencies, And bowing, Hands and head about the strings. Red is the color of blood, Red is the brickwork at home, Red is the byproduct of cones, Red is the color of love, Cleft lips, crushed bugs, Insides of lungs. Scry from that what you like, But Toronto has a darkness, That should be red and white.
Rose gold chrome horns, Like cardboard clothes, Cold, associates sorrow, Unworn, uneven tomorrow. So bow your head forward, Lift yourself up, divide me whole. I stand naked before you, Like I play with hands both, Like I tap, dance, as a show, I do for all you know, I suppose. Upon her form, both hands, Avacado toast, buttery bread, Guitar solo overtop the prose, Alcohol in her mouth, floor, Softcore porn, popcorn snow, Relationships in rondo form. I just wish I knew something more.
Red coral, white bands, Windmill motions, Arms moving forward, If you get in the way, I'm waiting for you. Healing potions in both my hands. Pink coral, line graph, One day the ocean... For now, whatever passes. Yakub like arrangements, Only I divide you in half, Led Zeppelin she says, Is her favourite band. But she loves Taylor swift and Robert Plant. Red coral, white bands, White flags, white magic. Let go of my hand, she says, She needs a wise man, Not one coveting red. You'll get in the way, I'm moving forward, Text messages sent. White Coral, White mask, While to dress, only black. And all the red is gone, I guess...
Simply tell me, Simply tell me, Simpleton, weed, Between clenched teeth, Tension of three, from one. Petty... Pretty periwinkle. You wash your hands of disease, You never wash your hands of me. Like Adam kissed Eve, Rustling leaves, in the city, Not at the extremes. And make believe is more for cocaine users, Not people like me, Explore as many worlds as you see, You'll find in the end the colors are three. Plus, It might seem petty, But your shade is ultramarine. And it's shady people like you, That changes people's creed, Like a stringed needle, Pulled straight through teeth, It's not the pain they fear, It's the permanence you seek.
Olive oil, Turquoise, Handsome boys, White lattice joints. I've heard art and noise, Made economic choices. I've heard Pink Floyd, Still, within me tar boils. I need another spawn point, Another black void, Olive oil, Turquoise.
Dichromatic concepts, Gods, and Goddesses, Blood, clotted, The colors bother him. Colors like blue-red, like proverbs. Worship Brahma, trust in process, Like an animal, acquire knowledge. Marvel, at an impossible profit, Money like orange, hyperbolic, Muscle farmhands, prophet. You are the colors you ponder, You aren't young much longer, You, are an actual darkness, A lack of color. Worship gospels, dungeon crawlers, To you, a monster is a monster, Nonsense you might make up, Forget what murdered daughters, Sons and brothers, like insects. Those little boxes you invented, Then force upon a general public.
In Her Dreams Everyday she grew more cynical, Forewarned in the way he spoke. 'What makes trees grow? Speaking indignantly? Lazy, form english is what bees know. Maybe there is more, maybe not. Leaves, and lace upon her form, Leers and mistakes on a forum, Leaves and paces about a home. Lady Clare, is this what you wish for? Mais oui, upon meeting, she says, but may we not once she sees him again. She begs, making peace, but, maybe not. What is under the stars, outside of the bar, Yet above us all? In her mind, her. But, actually, God. And he sees her like I see her: Alone by herself, just of her mom. Lo, girl, grate your feet, arms to nothing, Cognizant, you can see what's coming. So, use a word to cut deeper, I mean, Maybe there is more, maybe not... Say please, and release the lions... If a cognate speaks of alm, as always, Bet a fool falls, autumn again, as always, Winter follows. Bees, on their belly, in a playful sense. Wallows about woods and streams. Striped appearance, demeanor, feelings, He exits the scene with grace and dignity. Asking the same, but bees scream, race, As always, it's just the way things be. Swallow a mouth full of eggs, and honey, Forward, fundamentally things are different. Not just you and me, for everyone that sees us. The courts just take up space, mostly useless, And friends never show up to court you, bee, They treat you differently. You are less than me, because you are less than nothing, She says, and places her hands to the sun. Youth burning away at her bloodied stumps, Speaking in fear of a beast that runs, jumps, Eating the bunnies she dreams about...