useless fingers cannot seal together to help me catch to falling
stream of promise that scald my hands. my eyes kept down on the
tourniquet of lies that stems the flow and clous my vision. we
must face despair, defiant and clinging to shards of hope that
cut my fingers. but whn i catch me staring at you i can't help
hoping that i'll make it through. twelve straight hours with no
sleep, only candlelight to guide, spilling hope hate and love,
cleansing everything anew. in these moments of exhaustion, skin
damp with relief, we can be each other's crutch. please never let
me go. out of tears and ashes hope. i find solace in these little
i forget the pain, the loss, the never ever having been there, i
cling to the momentary blindness i see in others every day. but
optimism isn't an option for those cursed with sight. the path is
dark and uninviting, but follow it we must. treacherous fucking
world - i won't be fooled again. i'll feel no pain now. never
again will i crack under the pressure of this world. hope against
hope, when every day the load gets heavier. but with every step i
take my back grows straighter and the focus i retain will bring
me to the end. i find solace in these little victories.
can't i find love, heart broken, soul destroyed. six hours with
you: six weeks of pain. perhaps in time it will fade, perhaps in
time it will go away. at least i'm safe from the devil in my own
hell. i find solace in these little victories.
back to the trains
used to walk these streets, heads high and back, eyes wide in
wonder of what we've become. i used to have it all planned out, i
used to know where i was going. "and every way you turn
leads the same way" - you break the silence with these words
and with a call back to the trains that drag us home by our hair.
there is no sanctuary in nostalgia. i love you... i just want to
melt into the dark warm living earth and find that special place
i sought when i was a child playing hide and seek. here i can
hide without fear of discovery. leave me alone, i'm just a child
inside this empty shell, i cannot hide, i know i can't hide
wihtout fear of discovery.
never ends, they never fade, these scars on my heart from
self-inflicted injuries. you fucking traitress.
much longer must i see you with other before you notice me
staring longingly at you. in the time it takes for one single
raindrop to fall down your cheek i have said "i love
you" a thousand times in my head. how much longer can i be a
friend and nothing more.
the true art of rebellion
fifteen years old, i delved to discover a counter-culture, a kick
against stagnation. but even within this underground i found a
festering mainstream bleeding us all dry white. but i cannot
feely condemn - by being here we've made a step away, but i just
get so frustrated by coming acrossthis cancer. we cannot escape
living by the system we hate, but we can at least disassociate.
you don't even try - i see the cowardice in your eyes. piss your
life away just like your fucking parents. don't just say it,
fucking mean it - that is the key. fake, clutch at the old
tear-stained sleeve. your pathetic conformity can only corrupt
the true art of rebellion.
of crying, guilty of trying, guilty of caring... this is my
scene is a wonderful tool for compassionate youth to rebel
against the evils of society. but your token gesturing, rebellion
squandered uselessly, brings nothing but shame upon us all.
the sun breaks through my nocturnal sanctuary and burns these
battlements to dust, leaves me naked. the sun bleeds through my
curtains like light into a womb, and i cannot say for certain
whatever i would do. rise sun, burn me with hope, till i cannot
crawl from cover. the sun is strong and hurts me, bleaching all
my skin. i was never good at allowing this heat in. from heat to
burn, from health to pain, and every part of me is sore. my skin
is red, my eyes are dull, and my fingertips are numb. it's like
wire wool - it looks so beautiful, crystalline, but tinged with
red. i can feel in my gut that i've failed again, and broken the
handful that i value. my hands are tied, my feet are weighted
down [and it smashes]. it blurs as one - glass and wire - and i
surrender. i'm sorry i forgot to say that everything is not ok,
and i cannot find a reason to move. i'm naked but for this cover
of wire wool.
eyes open and i don't move, desperation rules this broken heart.
and i would not move even if pain seared through this shunned
body... no pain is like that which i have felt, and i break down
and cry. i carry on but i will not be happy until i die.
hand hold high
traffic stops, clocks pause, great crowds fall silent, the tv
multitude lean a little closer to the screen. and then... exhale,
relax, it's over. gentle eyelids softly close. at least the
muscles in my neck are finally softening again. sofa's, parks and
riverbanks, all glow with a little heat - the fading traces of a
pssion passing through. novels, necklaces, kitsch cups, a photo
of you at the station... these things i clutch at and keep them
close to my heart. with these memories like cool wind on my back
i grit my teeth and mofe on. the last notes of parisian autumn
pianos float into corners of empty concert halls, and the air is
sweet. i onyl ever wanted you to feel my hands firm on your
shoulderblades and you fell back and i caught you. but somehow
you kept on falling the other way. a sad smile, a squeeze of my
arm, and you drift away. whatever happened to afternoons of glory
wasted gently in the sun? i'm sorry i can't justify and words are
not enough, so try and understand as we stretch our hands...
hands held high, these innocent hands held high above our heads.
but i can never be happy knowing you are sad.