Walking in her room Is the same it has always been The air doesn’t change And I see her lying there, God She is poetry itching to be written   I hope I can tell her one day Maybe when she is asleep And I’m still wide awake Countries away I’ll still remember the curve…

Colorful bulbs Buggy eyes Calm car rides Sugared coffee No fire A little fire Spinning Spinning Stop Scream Closed eyes High voices Suffocating boxes Dark parks Innocent boys Scary girls Hitchhiking kids Forgotten ghosts

It starts in your gut, It’ll snake its way to your throat, silently. Eventually, you’ll forget to breathe.   All things are capable of becoming lost. We fear our lack of presence.

Drunken laughs fill a small room. It’s too dark, but everyone feels the adrenaline. Fear is a lost cause to the ludicrous.   The water was too cold, the wind held no mercy. She jumped in, desperately hoping she was alive.

Disgust grows inside of her Like an unborn child She never wanted.   Jokes of scarred backs, scarred stomachs, scarred humans Leave her unsettled. Thinking during early mornings Where did we go wrong?   No one hears screaming anymore We’ve all gone deaf Too many voices Twice as many ears And we walk along the street…

The abandoned church Stands still across his house in dismay He doesn’t dare look long Boys run through with bottles and smoke No one notices how sad empty pews look

There is a lanky boarder From what we see as evil and familiar humanity But no one holds pure innocence The sky looks like angels are burning for us to ponder There’s fire spreading along our eyes, but we’ve always been blind

Regret is a Sickening fog gripping his wrists Willing him to open his fists The orchestra has paused Silence is deafening to the guilty

  Do you see the way he looks at her? Full of pride and longing. He dares not grab for her hand, For he knows he’ll startle her. He’ll stroke her cheek, And breathe her in, Never wishing to forget who she is. But now he is gone, And she rolls in regret. Every time…

The air is thick With all the words you dare not utter I want you to scream them The dirt is too dry over an old grave No one brings flowers anymore