Blue streaks shew across the sky.
Manic days and semper fi.
Red dawn smashes out the sea.
Honor is all I claim to be.

Though I love and feel like saintly.
I reek, timorous, spineless and dainty.
But I have no respect for you!
Till we are in court, tried and true

It was the world, the world of defeat.
I planted my flag on a daisy and creek.
On a light dominion of my summerhouse place.
There sit, the lovely Welterman case.

Weltermans family gathered in boon.
Farewell to a daughter, a motherly loon.
I killed her. There. I said it okay?
But don't blame me, she was just in my way.

On a cold summer day, and a hot summer night.
Cicadas bizzled but hardly struck a fright.
Daisy lay sleeping, sweet next to me.
Leaving behind her unfinished dreams

But lo and behold, an undertaker.
Ruinous desire, I decided to take her.
My confession means nothing, my killing, an iota.
So love would not infect Alexander of Macedonia.

Down the throat and across the sea.
Of loquacious gelatinous sanctimony.
I'll cut deep without thinking, I'll slash without aversion.
Ophelia and her love is a tainted *******.

I bathed in the blood and cried myself silly.
She only deserved death, that ***** old filly.
No more would Welterman reek of my sin.
To lower a king, to a peasantly Tim.

Hoarse words with their form.
Callous spirit in his drawn.
Macabre dreams are in seeming.
Flowers when I am a dreaming.

Love for the sweet and true.
Scintillating morning dew.
Bring his heart back unto me.
Candid with our misery.

A well spoken boy, but true enough.
Not without the ruff and tough.
Manic trees kiss the breeze.
Love infects these stupid trees.

Oh, but am I kidding?
Well that you'll never know.
That boy with his streaky hair.
And eyes a flaming glow.

Beautiful and sublime.
Miserably frozen.
Hoping without deserving hope.
To be the one he's chosen.

Oh, but I wouldn't beg on that.
No, not without a written contract.
To say unto us forever more.
That he would never walk out that door.

All thoughts are individual. It is impossible to take the energy and apparatus to which that energy is transferred through to develop a thought. Therefore no knowledge is taken, all is perceived to wit a schematic and the apparatus developed by our brains to develop the thought. The thought is then subjected to the body and undergoes scrutiny to provide a relevance, priority and application. Therefore it would be safe to assume that all knowledge is neither subjective nor objective but an entirely new word that could exemplify itself as "Understood as developed by ones own." Where I got this schematic for this idea was in counterance to the percieved robbing of thoughts and ideas from books and ideas. Would it be proper to call it the same thought? No. Would it be proper to call it a reaction? Only in the most mechanical of senses that is cause following effect.
This idea would be to liken to a computer having a file copied from one machine to another, while the content remains the same in its physical interpretation on the screen would completely change. As if being opened by two seperate programs. And we are not talking about the files being the same when we talk about ideas, ideas are consequences of what is perceived therefore consequences of the that is copied. Ideas are the effect and in their way, an individual interpretation by how the schematic of an idea is followed by what is transferred.
This idea in itself makes up for the massive hurdle that is misunderstanding between two people, each hearing fundamentally the same things while producing two differing ideas. In summation, an idea is a scrutinized original built on the schematic of that which is perceived and is each independent of a person and their surroundings.

I could have been dead!
Would that I, be dead in my head?
No, I be dead in thine bed.
Would not that you care that I am dead?

Poppycock and dead!
I am never dead, I am only my head.
Not dead so to say, that you take it away.
I am dead without thine head.

Dead! Better dead than red.
Red, dead in your bed covered in red.
I said I was dead, so leave me in bed.
Dead in your eyes, dead in my bed.

Dead, like dregs.
Dead in a dreg.
Covered head to toe in clay.
Making my way, in heaven to stay.
For you my babe, I am dead.

Sanctimonious priests and their **** Biretta hats.
Tell me of me of gods praise and a world in its hard collapse.
Where were you when I needed you.
Breaking hearts I suppose.

Wilderness and forests breach out across the hills.
Sunshine and rainbows will bless our day begin.
But I'm not watching anymore.
There's no need to get preachy.

And I reek of desperation for another mans touch.
And there's none to hear me scream I've got a pretty good hunch.
Do you even seem to care?
It's not very nice over here.

Harbor buses ship Asian businessmen back over gentle seas.
The city is alive against the saintly laden breeze.
I reach out to the stars.
They turn away and blush.

And I'll be ****** if I ever admit its not you its me.
And I'll keep up this facade, I'm over here and I'm free.
My body wanes past the flowers.
Their beauty turns to coal.

Tepid breaching house deep on the brink of collapse.
Sandpaper trails lay out the dust across the mats.
We couldn't get a carpet so we settled for the plastic.
Now the writing on the walls tell us its getting drastic.

Your hearts on your sleeve and my hearts buried in the yard.
The flowers dance in the wind on our cynical boulevard.
You're sitting in the paper covered misery of our room.
The T.V's blaring harsh at 4 in the afternoon.

I took it to the crossroad that stretched out to our sun.
He's dipping in the horizon like a criminal on the run.
Escaping the daytime shadows that bring us to the cross.
It's 2 past 4 the vodkas starting to wear off.

And I yell! And I scream.
We can't keep up this way!
Somethings gotta give!
I'm a callous felon every day on death row doorstep here with you.
The debts been piling up and my souls striving for something new.
I can't bring back your hero to this rat infested place.
Ever since he yelled at you he said that he'll be coming late.
The daytime sky's an ocean and my hell is were we sail.
Our destination is unclear to me from this stagnant rotting jail.
I bring you a little ***** and again you turn me down.
Lives about as sweet as you in your violet torn up gown.

Neighbors invite us to a Havana land beyond the stars.
In our new little world did you know they don't drive any cars.
They leave in tears cascade and bodies ready to collapse.
Muttering under there breath that they would never dare come back.

We argued about the price is right, we argued for the hour.
You threw out the remote and so I threw up the couch.
Handbag lipstick eyeliner spilled over your leather wallet.
It felt to them like an earthquake and for us two alcoholics.

You had been sipping on your red glass wine and protected it with your life.
I broke into a tsunami tirade of abuses and contrites.
A broken home laid out across the sunset of the day.
I'm glad the silhouette of you finally ran away.

Harsh unyielding sunset, buries me against the page.
I won't be lazing on a couch, left to rot and waste away.
Wormy plush Berber carpet soft against the afternoon.
Debts are pile high and the company picnic is this June.

The pages are vellum paper covered in ancient Egyptian script.
I've loved you methodically ever since we met inside that crypt.
The dregs brings me solemn hope that one day we'll breakthrough.
Works calling in on Sunday for some overtime that's overdue.

Its a 5 past 4 the glass lays arrhythmic, shattered at my feet.
We found each other down beside the casket of the diseased.
Heartfelt words never came out of a mouth that were so pure.
How could you take me for interesting, in life I'm just a bore.

Down. I've already ruined the letter meant from me to you.
Life is not a fairy tale to broker marriage for us two.
Bloodletting's an aphrodisiac to keep me at the brink.
Why'd I write this silly thing when I spilled my drink.