Thoughts outmode the body.

In my heartless heart, maybe I just want to want. If I were you, what would I do? Mostly alone, mostly alone; I am a lot of people. You want a medal just for smiling. Your ardor is your armor. Try not to retrace when you wander. I haven’t done enough nothing. What you’ve earned is more than alms. Prophylactic as the dawn. Know what type of shit I’m on and that’s not true. A calm dog might be caged.

The way you stared at me I thought you went blind. In my mind I turned you to someone else. If I could stop holding this red pen for five minutes then these wounds would heal. Let’s be honest for once about our desires. I still see the old you in your young face. You look different in every picture but that has nothing to do with me. In the darkest place, you swear it’s all fine; searching for crystals in ceilings that you can’t reach. In a cavern I drew your portrait by the green-blue light of the night before. Of course you didn’t recognize yourself then like you do now. And how will you live? Just how will you survive?

Human walls; you do what’s wrong to see what right feels like. A night of grieving. A reason chose itself. It’s cold in here, but that’s not weird or what did you expect? You showed the whole world without moving how to hold its neck. Out and open come the screams, hiding in the dreams of others. You learn to hate yourself. If that’s not passion, what is? Legs wrapped around a vacant frame. A waiting tongue, an untouched shame. Purple iris sirens call the timeless delegation for to fall. I love you like cyanide coursing through these modern times. Push a part of yourself through the phone, making slow adjustments to new bones. A wish for those begotten. Another slave to the sire of autumn.

Two minds meet and lie around the words that keep them mysteries long after learning everything they think about. Two eyes breach a dying town unheard of, seeking history right before burning everything they dream about. Crying into sidewalk’s arms, bending into well-kept fields; this wants to die and yet we never say goodbye. When you touched my eyes, I did not weep. When I lay beside you, I did not sleep. I held on for hours while you coughed in my ears and nose and showed me how to be close. Guessing gestures, too much forgiveness, indicative of nothing.

It hurts to see them now. Everything I say is subliminal and more yours than mine. Run my fingers down the spine of the day, separated into rich tapestry. Do you want to be numb? Do you want to be a number? Break a setting mold for a better place. Taste sweat fresh upon your face. Letting go of us, letting go of grace in a light that could never hold.

Closer than my head, I thought you were dead I thought you were dead I thought you were dead On the back of a truck towards nowhere I want you to show me that you don’t care I want you to show me that you're still there I walked from the floor to the hall to the stairs Scared hyperaware, of the knife that you wear as a crown as I'm wearing you down into Airless devouring towers of broken up bits of the bricks that you've thrown in a fit on your own In the midst you don’t know you exist all the calls that you've missed on phones that don’t click they just Hang and just hang and just hang and just hang off the end of a sentence why would you mention time is a crime of acceptance climb to the entrance in search of an exit sixteen churches and all of Them empty French fried gods and the words of repentance are scrawled on the back of a disused Bench. under which you slept for the better part of a year and excitements the better part of your fear Looking forward or looking backward (I thought you were real) Bizarre son you are the light of everyone Just don’t wanna be disappointed When everything prescient is stolen Youre better off with a row of bullets in your mouth Smiling out to the air of home Take away what you’ve accomplished All that’s left is who you are One eye higher on your face than the other Behind the truth, there is a wall In a green room lit red, with flowers eating off the walls, a memory eclipses itself and breaks out from a cagey skull, arriving with a tremor, egoless and pure, utterly unaware of its focus and its meaning, to cross along the floor, begging to know and to feel and to ache and to long, wishing to recognize the ceiling and the corners which have become so endlessly prison-like, leering with absolute unforgiving balance. The dreamlike candor of the space is either deafening or silent, and oftentimes both, depending on the level of severity it allows itself to embrace its internal landscape with, and the subtle shifts of perspective that all but morph into one giant eye in the center of its overdriven, worrisome heart that thumps against some empty soul like knuckles on smooth wood. Time peters and erases in swaths, yet magnifies also, so as to become the clock on the wall of every present body, and even bodies not present, those buried forever in water and in warmth. As the terrible hands turn, buzzing on the cusp of before and after, the once, the now unfolds without it from a parallel static. For even freedom finds a brother in pain. For even death is another introduction.