They always said curiosity killed the cat.

Rat-ta-tat-tat.

Insignificant, curly shavings of thoughts slap the pink cerebral walls,

Porous with confusion and intellectual growth.

Experience.

Plump veins intricately woven between billowing realms of data

developing, destroying, at an electrical pace

Pulsing hollow answers like a motherless hooved heart ******* venom from Daddy’s fingertips

Menacing raindrops

On the tin roof over the shelter where too much dust collects

And Mr. Potato head and his family slowly disintegrate

On a day where the sky split

and tears dropped out

and all of those **** pillows

Just couldn’t catch them.

Wringing a grey water cloth

From the aquatic fabric we’ve always dreamed of consuming

Or sleeping under and over and in between.

I felt your presence today.
Beaming rays of your smile surrounded me
I knew it was only you
Thieving the sun of its glory
Bowing,
Allowing your smile to illuminate the world instead.

I felt the warmth of your sisterly embrace
Your silken hair caressed my cheek
As the March breeze wrapped around me
Your golden rays disheveling my skin.

I hear my name, whispered
Sifting through the branches of the dogwood tree
A thick accent enveloping me in the disappearing leaves
You are here.

You're surrounding me
Drying my tears with a short wafting of spring breeze
Laughing, the way you always do
You are with me.

I gaze towards the heavens
Meeting the vibrant blue of your eyes
And I feel you
The way the blind cannot see
But must feel.

**You are still here.

Paper Man had brilliant hands.
He smoked at the corner store
Where the ginger girl
Can't keep her man steady
with pitch black locks.

Every day, in and out
A northern escape to a southern route
Worn thin by pasty toes.
Those cigarettes lit his world on fire.

Peeling away, yellow and aged
Engraving lives between red ended lines
He brought color to the tall tales
Reincarnated beneath Mother's wrinkled eyes

He smoked ignorance, rolled in bliss
With closed eyes between dusted rock
Aged with lies and peeling paint from the windowpanes
With curly blonde esteem, chanting his name
Drifting between salty pines
Never settling for another grain
Of a lesser design.

Paper Man, that was the plan
A scribbling upon burning paper
Ashes to ashes, they all fall down
Never brought to life
Paper Man made a stand.
The floating bark of the lemon tree still whisper his name.

Salt breezes through the door
Swish, swish
sings the shore.
Your glass is raised
Your conscience bare.
Sweet fidelity fills the air.
Floorboards creak,
Louder, then softer, a meek
Pitch you recognize
An octave beneath your demise.
A ****** aftermath of flowing wine
Fills those eyes, the scalp, those ears
His ****** wine were once your tears.

Are you bound by free will 

Like a bird objected to fly

Why do you find peace in solitude

Yet your eyes won't cease to cry

Why do you clutch thorns

When the roses have let go

Why are you  trapped in simultaneous love

When you already know how the story flows

Have you ever felt dead in your own skin

Because you've given it all away

Yet somehow the ****** trenches of yesterday 

Paint a smile upon your face

Why do you protect others 

By dissolving yourself

Silly girl, you better get a grip

Before you lose it on yourself.

I care too much

I care not enough.

No one has ever marched

To the beat of my drum.

Dum diggita dum

dum diggita dum

dum diggita

dum dum

dum.


A funeral march

Progressive boredom over the course of my years,

It's a choice.


Throw in a good drink and a good show,

Call me content.

Call me anything you like but a waste.

A waste of time, money, air and space.

Call me a waste. I’ll wake up.


I’ll awake a year ago in my dumb love’s bed, thinking

of the last of his and the first of mine. I’ll show you a waste.

A waste of lines, of lies, of love and of time.

A waste of virginity down the drain, a waste of heartache,

of razor blades,

and pain.


Don’t call me a waste.

Let me sleep in my bed alone

my new cotton scent drowning

away the wasteland of stress pooling beneath my eyes.

Their cigarettes smell the same.