March 10, 2007

Prelude

Ah the sounds of mirth,
Under a pink-blue sky,
Deafening confessions
And thinking eyes,
I watch the blue light,
Flooding my breath,
Alcohol my lubricant,
To ease the pain,
Of watching laughter walk by,
Without calling my name.

A regretful baige sky now,
A lone tenant of a double bed,
Birds chirping in an odd hour,
Mockery, under my sheild I guess.
One voice and a million dreams,
One hope and a thousand regrets,
One love, one too many the pain,
One her, and that my problem be.

Time is fiction, time is a lie,
Time is the sound of a little weak sigh,
Time is a factor, a single silent scream,
The one that tears you up,
That bad midnight dream.

When scraping at the barrel,
The very bottom of the barrel,
Little wood chips disagree,
They stick to your spoon
And tell you about
How easy it is to just flee.

I got my back, I'll tell myself,
Even if a million passed by,
Morning's just another chirp away,
My insanity draws nigh.

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