the cure comes with consequence
it's pretty sad that i am just what they said i would become
it's pretty bad that i can't ever seem to go the long run
everything, everywhere is only temporary
so how can i pretend that what i feel is what i'm sharing?
this blue paper it looks better with my tears to stain it
and memories of melancholy times can't rearrange it
the sun has left it's cloudy grave, and it is far too bright now
i don't know who i am with all this light to shed on.
red gleaming pride,
red gleaming pride
i once used to force my hand to feed you
black broken smile,
black broken smile
i once used to force my heart to heal you
but now i am healed.
the cold city.
there was a city,
in the darkest of interstate
driving so far away
just to see the sights.
and i remember the winter frost,
lost under the parking lot
all the beauty of death and love
and every leaveless tree.
burning up the highway
even though there was snow
helping my eyes to leak
helping my mind to grow
i never mentioned this life before,
it was under the sheets forever more
but morning has broken through the black
and now i am ready.
spring has sprung
and left me in shambles
hating the sunshine,
warm against my skin
every pore flowing open
every breath getting difficult to draw
this season is grating
against my patience again.
truth is a buried organ
in the belly tomb of life
and i'm tired of repetative surgery
trying to find the light
so i glance upon a large reflection
of my face in the black of night
i look like someone tore me apart
glued me back together,
with the lines not quite right
cracked and trembling like a mosiac
in a ten-ton truck on a bumpy road
and my heart feels just the same
doctor says anti-psychotics
might change my mind
lighten the load
but these itty-bits of hydrochloride
seem to make me sick
like a sputtering faucet
that dirty's up the sink
and i reach out for your vocal chords
i need to hear your voice
but the silence wraps me up so tight
like a blanket of suffocation.
another book read
another life lead
about to end.
may the fabric of my mind endure
the needle and thread
that swims haphazard
sewing up loose ends.