rhythmic lullaby

June 22nd, 2007 at 04:40:06 AM

Sitting up when the
birds fly up and the sun
starts to go down.
Sitting around as the bodies
fall down while the neighbors
start to frown.

Sneezing and wheezing
is the feeling from teasing
our dimpled shoulders that moan.
Screaming and dreaming in
the lifeless room called a
world that no one will own.

Switch it up

June 19th, 2007 at 02:05:42 AM

Not in the need of help
finding a new conscience,
but a clean one.
Cleaner than the hands of
a mad scientist after
skin to bone concact
with your mortal enemy.

We have the need to
alter the flawless
appereance of pure
people only in the eyes of
eachother.

What i need is a weaker form
of stability.
I can help knowing i'm wrong.

written on white slate

June 12th, 2007 at 07:46:48 PM

Free birds are crying
for their lost feathers like
the fear of seclusion.

Hollow wine-soaked pine
attracts lovers in the midst
of making, expecting
nothing more than the finest
bottle from the church owner.

The weight of the atmosphere
on my shoulders is a reason
to search for a descent
to a non-exisiting place.
It may not be an adequate one
but it helps to
push
then
pull