these patched lungs want release.you've been smoking likethe world was gonna end -- (and maybe, it already has. we could've plunged to hell and wouldn't have noticed.)but now, your lungs igniteinstead of the cigarette.
In the ForestThe playground was a wasteland of daydreaming, drug dealing, and orgies. A club not even the cockroaches wanted access to, the place rapidly deteriorated into a shady circus with a freakshow for a cast.The small, enslaved grounds, however, cradled a stark atmosphere accompanied by a mellow, rust-infused flavor. It was a hearth of solace for many, regardless of social rank or cliques. Boys with broken minds, girls with shattered hearts frequently sought out the playground for a moment of peace.Tethered to the forest and cloaked by the embrace of oaks, the wasteland whistled, lonely but not yet forgotten.
WonderlandThe woman called Alice walks alone through the hollow streets, a seed planted in her sterile heart and a rifle sleeping in her belt. Last night, she'd witnessed the popping of Pérignon, and a dazzling display of fireworks, complete with alcohol-polished emotions and hundreds of thousands of citizens pulsing rowdy fanfare. She'd netted her highest number of kills that fateful day. Blood still rests in the creases of her palms.A streetlamp greets her brightly with its mild glow, and alerts her to a dirty and disheveled homeless man groveling for money on the other side of the street. The young couple next to him give a feeble attempt to back away, claiming they have none to spare."Lies," Alice whispers. She can easily see the pearls jingling from the lady's neck, and a well-crisped suit guarding the young man from the night chill. Money is more than expendable to them. And this city could do without this attractive mask of a couple. They, too, are expendable. Alice begins t
we're a million miles awayit's desolate and dark and swalloweddown here, but your shadow assuresme that nothing will harm me.a quiet moon blinks across my skygazingvision and into the descendingmeditating meteorites. if it weren'tso lonely, then this place would meana little more than just deep solace.and i know i'm just being selfish again.i suppose it's a bit desolate in thestars too, but don't worry; i'll bethere soon.
if being afraid is a crime, we hang side by sidethe future terrifies me,so i'll continue todrag my evisceratedcorpse under yourdecaying ballroom.don't you worry, there'salways more room inthis neverending jail.
once starsthese weary atoms are constantlywreathed into genetic ornaments andrecycled from human to human.i can trace my veins off into the brazencustody of our prescribed atmosphere.bring me to where the world endsand the horizon collides with the heavens,because i'd like to recreate myself intosomething new.or at least fade among the hydrogenfurnaces, returning to a cosmic cradle.
we aren't well-writteni can envision time fluxing backwards:words snuffed, swallowing dreams,choking on the catatonic fear thatyou just might love someone a bitmore than you love me.maybe if i destroy those damnedstars, you won't have anythingelse to write about.
Civil TwilightI keep daylight steady, because one day this blood won't flow so eagerly. I nurse the fragile sun in my dust-veined hands, and you smile at the others talking around us. We've yet to show them how little we truly care. I'm slowly finding the roots to be strong.I finally let the daylight pour away, lost among the foreboding trees. You brush fingers through your wind-shocked coiffure and galaxies tumble, shrieking in a discordant orchestra. A few notes cling on chivalrously, and I swipe them to the whispering ground. My feet collide with nebulae in my wake, but I crush them. There's no stardust; only a powder of dimly glistening aurorae.The roses bloom angrily in shades of violet and moonlight. We are dysfunctional, but you are my valentine tonight.
we're alonei want to drive pulsesinto your fractured ribcage,make my words resonatein your hollow vessels;heavy enough to sink eventhe sturdiest of ships.(and we both know you can't float.)but inject me into yourchoking streams, and i'll gladly showyou the meaning of 'alone'.