Requiem for a Pipe DreamEverything seemed perfect,it just all fit into place.That is, until the day it slowlyblew up in my face.I should have know much better,seen it coming from afar,but we never truly understandhow blinded that we areby hope and need and every voidwe just can't seem to fill.However much you feed them,they just get hungrier still.I'd like to think I've finally learnedthis lesson once again,but I'm sure that I will probablybe back here now and then.
What was I thinking?Caught unawaresand unable to dealwith a foolish illusionthat I thought was real.A lapse in composure,a loss of control.A lifelong anomalytaking its toll.
We're ThereAnd so, at last, we've reached the inevitable end,the destination we've been chasing all along.A bittersweet resolution to everything we've doneand now, I guess, it's time to say so long.
The Myth of IndependenceYou say "hell is other people.",but where do you think you'd beif everyone around youshared your misanthropic view?Without cooperation,in a world of apathy,what exactly is itthat you think that you could do?
Brain WaveFor so long I was stuck,but then inspiration struck.I found the right idea, at lastand now I'm on my way.
Misanthropic Abandon“Hell is other people”,a wise man once did sayand from where I'm standing,they can all just go away.No one is an island,but I'm damn sure going to try.They only people I want to knoware me, myself and I.
MediocrityIn the mushy middleright between loved and despised.With no distinguishing features,but potential unrealized.It leaves no lasting impression,just emphatic apathyso all that's left to sayis that there's nothing here to see.
I'm FreeBreaking out of oldstructuresand their inherentrestrictionsuntil all that's leftis pureexpression.Completelyunfettered,and finallyset freeto embrace theopportunityto say exactlywhat's onmy mind.
Don't StopI've got to keep on moving,there's no time to take a break.If I let up now,it just might be my last mistake.I need to take a breath,but just can't afford to slow.I've made too little progressand I've got too far to go.
The Tell Tale HeartI feel the rhythm of his heart,beneath the boards the beating starts;as reason from my mind departs,I fall apart, I fall apart.The men who knocked upon my door,not knowing what's beneath my floorwill want to settle up the score -I do implore, I do imploreThis guilt breaks conscience with my lie -my wracking sobs and wretched sighs.I never meant for him to die.It was his eye, it was his eye!
MoonlessThe moonless eveningturns its back against the skyand leaves it empty.Perhaps the morningwill come back with its hands full,holding up the sun.
Abeo SolusFlitting heartbeat, sparrow high,twisting round the mountain's eye,tracing breath of shattered skiesand filling velvet palms.Falling sparrow, cry of stone,wings of mist and powder bonesipping, slipping from thy thronewithin their crimson throng.Treading now, beneath the cloudsAs what was once so heaven boundnow falling, falling, to the groundAnd singing silent songs.Fly no more, above the arcssinging side thy fellow Larkscurl beneath their shadows darkand sing your silent songs.Your flitting heartbeat, Sparrow high,now sings of silent songs.
RainRings and rivulets of waterRolling down the panes and roofRunning wildly through the guttersResting underneath the porchRaking wet across the shuttersRemaining still for far too longRestless children yearn to play
WritingI write to sufferI write to feelI write when I thinkThat nothing is realI write when I'm down,And alone in my bedI write out the thoughtsBuzzing in my headI write out of fearI write out of loveI write out of heartacheTo the spirits aboveI write when in pain,Sometimes for joyI play with each wordAs if it were a toyI write some blank pagesI write on my skinI just write all overMy soul withinWritten with bloodCarved into stoneListing my sinsSo I may atoneI write in poetryI write in proseI write when I'm nothing,When my emptiness growsI write to exist,And to disappearI write when envelopedBy nothing but fearI write to speak,Let my voice be heardI write to expressEvery powerful wordI write for breathI write for meI write so that othersCan see what I seeI write when hot tearsCascade down my faceI write in frustrationAgainst life's rapid raceI write when my heartIs pounding in my ears,When emotions run high,When shedding my tearsI write to la
Insane?What makes you thinkI am less sane then you?Because I'm depressed,does that make me mentally unstable too?So I'm suicidaljust because I cut?I have one outburstand you mark me down as a nut.Just because I hear voices,means I'm losing my head,Because I hate myself,Does that make you think I wish I were dead?Don't call me broken,Don't call me weak,I'm not insane,just unique
RondeletsBlackbirdsBlackbirds crying,Beaks pierced with rue; wing tips brokenBlackbirds cryingFrail songs born on air and dyingAnd frail sounds no voice has spokenTiny beating hearts laid openBlackbirds cryingShiverShiver of hipsA twist of silk sends coins flyingShiver of hipsthe rhythm poised upon her lipsDancer, her seven veils sighingsilk upon her bronze skin lyingShiver of hips
StorytellerStorytellertell me a story.A fable of wisdomor a tale of glory.Sing me a songof dreams andof wonder.Stories of kingdoms risingand worlds going under.Draw me a picturewith colours so brightand spin me a fairytaleto dream of tonight.
The Wicked WillThe wicked will, be the last to defendBecause there are no heroes left here stillJust remember who will stand at the endThe wicked willAll the righteous disappear, they lack the willThe good all broken down and seem to bendThose shining blameless tears they always spillSalty, clear waters that always descendWhen time comes to pay the butcher’s billFor all the blood the righteous smile to spendThe wicked willAlways.
So That HappenedJust when I thought that itwas over, said and done,something told me thatit's only just begun.So I took another shotand tried with all my might,I only hope that it'senough to make things right.