.. .Fallen Angels, Crickets, Death, N a Stroke of Luck

I walked 1,500 miles inside my head
Just to find me standing in front of you again
My bare feet, dirty, like the cuff of your sleeves
Guess that’s all it takes when you wear your heart around
In hopes that others watch and notice,
the chemical make-up of all you wish to be


Guess it’s as easy as that to become a whore ..
in the mind’s eye Of those that already know,
the sugared acid compile behind your words

But those pretty pennies are strewn about devoid of thoughts

Their meanings tossed aside like all the pieces you chose to neglect
In the private room of your confounded deviant head
Left abandoned behind, tied hand in hand with your regrets
& the line of avid admirers following close behind

-stands amused-

My pockets have been stripped open, so you no longer can reach inside
I’m bleeding from the outside in
The soles of my feet are burning, and the pyre is calling out for me
These casual inquisitions will never end

i lay here naked for you
coughing all my sins throughout sleep
One tragic dream after another
All angels burned, stranger’s spurned, with only lover’s left to adorn
To keep company the rejected cigarettes, the overdose of nicotine patches
Death scorns with the mock of love’s return

Amusing, darling
As I watch all those around you, sigh and flutter
Twittering all around you
And perhaps even I bore that yearning, behind a cool guise
Once upon a time
I stood, waited, and here I am

To watch you make your daily entrance and disappear
An act I tragically knew so intimately
Witnessing now as those around you gasp and shed a tear,
As my eyes make a dance and roll behind my head

Here
~*pulls out knife~*
take it
my head
the rest of me …
but not before I rip out my eyes
sorry ‘darling’ … these are mine
for I can no longer watch this spectacle, of your nauseous decree
the one you long and bow to every night

better that I keep these for the vultures
they’ve been waiting far longer than you
as I


As for my heart, well,
as soon as I retrieve it from a child king, whom called himself peter
I’ll make sure to inform you of the bidding
~*traces fingers across your face forlorn~*

I could never learn to keep skeletons in my closet
just fallen angels, crickets, death, and a stroke of luck
with a desperate yearning
that died the moment it became my wretched dream
my fucken keen sight of awareness
that should of always known better
but I never fucken learn



never


So I’ll just leave the rest of me outside to rot in the pouring rain
Blow a kiss to all life’s refrains
N let the rain blow this candle out