Morosepatient

The little girl blinked and he was gone Unsure if he was ever really there But she knew that something had inspired her To do things she wouldn’t normally dare A teardrop too many he once told her Had brought him from the shadows of her mind As those around her began to wander Across her imagination's fine line But now he seemed to have walked away As she found the life she had long sought He slowly drifted back to the shadows From her notebook and her beautiful thoughts And the fools around her carried the spades Burying him with her imagination With an epitaph etched on a tombstone ‘Here lies my potential for creation’

My mother sings in silence, she is an empty smile washed out water color that I left outside to dry. She plays along with me, because she has no tears left to give. Light is always a step away from her She is the piano keys that live in her heart, she pats my head and says it doesn't hurt She is nothing left but resignation She is a ghost that deals with the cold so I don't have to. She is love at it's finest waiting with sad eyes I ask her what for she says hush baby, and I sing in silence.

There I saw through shards of glass frozen in time, portraits of the past the poor, the feared, the Lustful the empowered folds of demon's masks Liquid mirrors and dripping skies through blue fire and silver eyes my love my sorrow my anger my joy of escape from reality's lies Awake through dreams, asleep through life Among the vicious, among this light around the malicious, black fire of night The naked greed and transparency of mankind's creed and of what I see thy kingdom come humanity

I find myself weaving the final stitches Of a noose I have been working on for a while I swore I’d use it by the time it was complete If me and my sanity hadn’t reconciled Each thread representing a flawed emotion Which tightly woven together makes up my life If you’re the one to cut me down from the rafters Love, patience and understanding must be your knife I find myself with a gun in my right hand With only one bullet left in the cold chamber I hand the loaded pistol with safety off Blindly in to the hands of a complete stranger Does this represent me opening my heart And risking a life of abject, dismal sorrow This Go

The lines on my face horrify me. I am a distant doppelgänger of the wildest fascinations, and I wonder, am I even really here? Is it not that I’m just here to cover things up, like the tidal waves will erase all the footprints on the beach? I can feel myself becoming more and more complete as time progresses, but I feel this will come at a price. I cannot become more complete than complete, and I fear that I will no longer know myself after I am complete. Am I complete now? I guess so. I no longer hear the scratching sound of new ideas coming over me. Then, I am I. This is truly unique, I connect words, shapes, images, I never dare

My wings still soar despite the stains of sorrow and the cracks on the surface. They are monochrome! Once translucent, iridescent but stained with black over time but beautified. Gilded wings no more despite this I soar, resisting the air and falling from grace down to this earth will my wings shatter on the way down with the abrasiveness of the abuse? They fade to gray from the black and I learn to embrace the air on the way down collaborating with the elements that shape and texturize these monochrome wings

Finite words to use. Such limitations can cause. Infinite Beauty.

Honey dewdrops from your lips Pleasing to my ear These silky sing-songs Sweet nothings sweet nothings Caressing with devotion Fleeting butterfly promises One sweet tear to the Ocean be Mendacity De Sade and Sacher-Masoch In an endless waltz Schadenfreude

Go out, child, and let them in your hair. Now I'm not quite - godlike, wanted as badly as a child who should have burnt their fingers in pastured sin - homesick, bred in the curve of flesh for a place that's never been a certain disappearing word but now - Don't deny acts to the day, unmare, walked along a run, beached like an yolk, on an iron cast spoon, thrown up in salt air.

Do you think, there will be rain today? Nothing is more important than that. Wherever you now may stand, wherever you go. Do you think there will be rain? The darkness between us is filled With travelling light. A distance too great to percieve. I look to  the sky at night. There's nothing I would not give For a chance To ask you. This once. One simple question: Do you think there will be rain?