Stretch the blue veins that frame the lithe skin under my eyes
I can't stand them anymore

'' I am tired, I am weary, I could sleep for a thousand years ''

Oh how true that is
but I mustn't
all these thoughts circle and spin around the curves and the fleshy bulbs of my brain

Honestly
it's a ****** miracle
I'm not already insane.

It was the murky stench of forgotten water
hidden somewhere
in the depths of an ivy-winding garden
and the autumn leaves which crunch into the mixing bowl

The rotting flesh of their midrib and veins
binding themselves a new life with the arms
of trees
which had fallen into the reapers puddle
- this is where they come to die.

Their graves, painting the garden Fallow and Umber
lay buried underneath a distant grey sky
the gloom of an English October is at their wake
and the feet of people
trample on their caskets
no remorse
no pause for thought
for nature's feeble skeleton
slipping out of breath

Every time I think we're done
you smile at me
lips like the sun
and mother of pearl teeth
and once again
I'm in love

*Why do you do this to me

Every time I think we're done
you smile at me
lips like the sun
and mother of pearl teeth
and once again
I'm in love

*Why do you do this to me

In the winter you will lie
soul beguiled and rested eye
deathly dreams that dream to die
In the dead of dusk

In December you will sleep
Stowed away the dreams you keep
The sea inside you, swirling deep
In the dead of dusk

Daytime thoughts of innocence
happiness and diligence
follow you to requiem
In the dead of dusk

Lightest thoughts on surface, you
forget about what's real
what's true
until the dusk envelops you
that dead and demon dusk

Now Winter's winds are calling you
shadows cast on what is true
white cat, now black cat
sun now moon
in the dead of dusk

Everything you thought you knew
sleep will twist and mangle you
nightmares creep inside of you
in the dead of dusk

Morning follows
sun rises up
nightmares dangle on the cusp
disappear now,
Twelve hours burn up
then drag you down
back to the dead of dusk

I never liked crazy hair
before you
and I never liked those gothic trouser chains
that you wear so well
And now I love every pimple on your face
every crack in your voice
every string you break on your old guitar
and everything in between

I hope one day you'll love the gap in my teeth
my crooked nose
my manic laugh
and the lumps in my flesh
every inch of me
the way I love you