Tuesday 23 June 2009

What's inside

When the moon falls to the bottom of the sky
And the plants reach feathered clouds
My headed thoughts of pillows
Filled with black haired widows ugly
Blonde monsters at least ultimate warriors
Un-starved vultures to be the prettiest
Of all.
When my mind can comprehend
A helping hand cannot repent I shall
Breathe sea air. Jump from the rocks into despair
Hoping for a woman, longing for a friend
Begging for a sibling to hear my to hear my
Cry for a little more time. 
A day to get my shit
Together so I can weather the storm that is life
Because whatever thunder does,
If it is not for my advantage it will hurt
Hits not through but just in
like a slow bullet shot from
an old gun at the hands of a
classic cowboy wearing tattered rags
Worn out shoes; moccas I could only
Hope to walk a mile in.
Thoughts of cowboys eventually lead
to thoughts of you
the way most thoughts eventually do, 
I grab a backpack and fill it with
the memories of a kite hill view
a smile of someone I thought I knew
two lost heartbeats and a crickelwood crew
but nothing from you apart from the feeling
of horses riding without owners you distilled in me
and sadly, cream. Fortunately, dream: nothing
but a thing. and age ain't nothin' but a number
so like a fine wine I'll slumber
in the middle of summer of middle-
Oh America
I am yours.
the same way to the grave a hurst roars
or panic towards the sight of unlocked doors
So when the sun rises higher than heaven
and when the love of one stops me guessin'
and when we're all alone., together.
Have him hold my place for now honey
so when I get my shit together
(as I said earlier)
The storm that is life can just feel like a
summer breeze so weez wheeze like
our heart has sneezed at my shocking
nose bleedz. so he can take my place
but let him know, any time I want it
I could take it, but something inside me says
if i had it, I probably wouldn't even want it
so let me run. run like sonic collecting
golden rings chaos emeralds only things;
just like dreams. Just like age. Just like money,
and I think of money
and just as always
I think of you
and how you struggled, what you had to go through
Oh America
I am you!
Razor love is playing.
I wonder if my love could cut clean through
and just like all wonder
if things could get better if they found something new
what do you want with me?
some days you forget how I should be dealt with
but it's my fault.
I keep forgetting the very sight of you
causes pain but i love you so much
I'll do it again.
and i think of hurt
and just like all thoughts...
Oh America
Help me pull through.