route wend
when night bends
churlish pleasure
the dark sin treasure

come to be bruise balmed
and bedecked with calm
your scars your wounds
the flesh stiched tracer
your night shawled look

you had me at "Babe"
this soothing full drawl
and how you take me
out from the beautiful
carnage
this haunted ruin
inhabitation
calibrated with pains
and painted with
tears

this tumultous
dissaray

The lies are dressed
In little pinks tutus.

The scorn is ready
For the masquerade.

The canary in the mine
Turns out to be
A hummingbird.

The butterfly in my tummy,
A bee.

The laugh really is
A stiffled moan;
The tear is shed for sorrow.
The sun is gone because the night
Will breed a bleaker tomorrow

Sirens.
Night and day. Day and night,
interrupting the silence with its severe music.
It's the city and we share the same space. C-town
never sleeps in its emergent paths; what makes
news, to whom and who cares enough to go along
for the ride.

The world, my friend, is a long-distance runner, running until
there's no more time. Don't we hold on to each second like
unwilling warriors, consoling the hours?

I still have your number in my phone,
I re-read our letters every night I come home.
I've checked a thousand times to see if you've called,
But the final stage of grieving is only being stalled.
I still smell your cologne every now and then,
When I do it's very faint and thin.
It's like a part of you still remains with me,
Only I cannot see.
I stare out the window hoping I see you walk up the driveway,
But yet I only see the end of another day.
A soft voice wakes me in the middle of the night,