All he wanted
Was to feel the pages against his fingers
Engulf his mind in something new
Or old perhaps, different.
Everything bled together, the pages are now muddied
Dedications confused with conclusion

Off we go, to the streets to find distraction
Anything beats dreaded solitude
When did this begin?
Between The Box Car Children and Jung

Hermes, Hermes,
What's it today?
You provoke them, spewing the things that you say.
Talking misfortunes in an upbeat way,
Skewing perception-
Quite the boastful display.

Moving, persuading, audiences of your play,
Could not have anticipated the anguish at bay.
'A catalyst,' You'd proclaimed,
Eyes revealing the dismay
The windows to your soul are in shambles
"Right this way!"

Down the winding paths where memories shall lay,
You'd brought my brother by here last May.
Nostalgic glimpses of family, a price to pay.
"Farewell, false wise one. Hope you took time to pray."

Damage
**** Edge

I don't think of you
As the one that got away
But I do think about you
Every time one goes

It burnt my hand
My pale skin started to boil
Alike throwing my stretched fingertips through glass
Hot, fiery flashes charging through my spine
A sharp inhale through clenched teeth
Eyelids locked together
My knees buckle, the carpet burns
An all too familiar nauseating sensation
I can't look
What was I reaching for?
You're not there

Never would I intend
To wreck your home
I just miss the brass against my palm
When I'd walk in to find you sleeping sound
Expedited pipeline from cold to comfort
You'd smile at me

I don't want to shift your foundation
You'd hedges seem well maintained
Frankly, my siding needs attention.

I cross the street against my will, the better judgment saves me one more time.
I wouldn't know who opened the door anyway
I have yet to practice my sales pitch

A fraud, or an illusion
Just find different ways of saying the same ****
Over and over
Lets get back to grunting