To build a house of fake flowers,
But together now, the dizzy stars in my eyes
All kinds of magic and gold dust
Unlucky in love,
Both of us mask a glance
At someone else
From beneath the ice sheet,
Because guilty, lost love knots the truth.
Steady yourself for endless waves
Of saltwater nightmares.
Robot couple, your engine hearts
and say the more I see of life
the less I think it’s worth living,
because let’s face it,
it doesn’t truly get better
it just changes;
suffering and loss
are hurdles on a never-ending
that you’re expected to run
for the rest of your life.
And God help you
if you don’t want to run it
because that means something's wrong with you.
That means you’re crazy.
I’m going to be fearless
and say something that no one wants
to hear, or is likely to believe:
the “right to life” is a myth,
because to have a right
is to have a choice
and life is an obligation.
To want to end it
means you need “help”—
either in the form of a crucified savior
or an expert with a Ph.D. and an eagerness
to label you.
All it really means is that you
don’t want to run that damn obstacle course,
and you shouldn’t have to
because you were never given a choice
from the beginning,
They say God only gives you what you can handle.
But lately I have realized that this cannot be true.
Every blow has the potential to blow out that candle.
So there is no guarantee that everyone will pull through.
What happens if you can withstand the disturbance?
Will you be constantly waiting for the next wave?
Imagine waking up knowing what lies behind the curtains.
Confined behind the undefined lines of a close shave.
Perhaps we all possess the prowess to overcome any obstruction.
But not everyone has the belief that they can persevere.
We are all victims of a much bigger incomprehensible construction
And there will always be some that succumb to that deepest fear.
What will you become if you somehow conquer all the obstacles?
Doing whatever it takes to ensure that you will survive.
Blaming others for what you have done refusing to be responsible.
Knowing this is the person you had to become in order to stay alive.
In the end we have no choice but to make do wit
i know i probably
harder, worked on "us"
but i just didn't care enough.
i guess you shouldn't have
tried to stab me that
one time when the
i guess just because you
thought he was better,
it gives you the
moral obligation to
never even try
to pretend that
you cared at all.
it sure seems like i'm
just alone or lonely and
trying to live someone
elses dreams through my
i cough up these vicarious
feelings and sell them for lust.
these street corners hold
my moments of joy or
at least my best moments
hollywood here i come.
that clung to my lungs making it hard
to breathe. lying in bed,
you pushed safety pins
through the tips of my fingers,
'and now i love you.
and now you're safe.'
the taste of blueberries is overbearing,
like the feeling of being in your arms.
too tight, you constrict me with your
iron-made wishes, your need to wait
while i would rather float
and hope tomorrow's better.
cicadas sing, but not in the snow-
when the frozen ground is falling into
black holes like ribbons from trees,
touching the ground and bursting to flames;
the sparklers are fizzing out.
and once upon a time your kisses
tasted like summer, but now they taste
like copper and obligation.
am i falling out of love?
or am i just disenchanted with
locking myself into a box called tomorrow
when i would rather run a marathon today?
there is window in this tower,
but jumping out would be suicide.
i can't see what's at the bottom,
and what if freedom is just as constricting