Perhaps it's Time for Something Good

The frost‘s been biting harder

These last few days

The season shows it‘s anger

In this way.

At times, the shroud of darkness

Seems too thick to pierce with light

It seems that we must harness

What strength we find inside

And walking seems impossible

With this burden of snow

The sheet of ice an obstacle

That hinders us to go

So much weighs down the mood

Perhaps it‘s time for something good.

Truth Deficient

I don't know what to make of this,
the show you like to put on,
pretending to be something else
than the one thing you are good for.

You stretch the truth with such skill
it's hard to find the edges,
or signs that give you up until
your skyscraper collapses.

You build your lies with little truths
you've morphed into submission
making it hard to find the clues
beyond all recognition.

And in your darkest moments
you're the blind leading the lame
you're your own worst oponent
but you delegate the blame.

It's hard to be responsible
for all your past mistakes
when everyone's disponible
to hide the truth away.

And in the end you'll find the flaw
in your illusion's grand design
that you can't reverse your own law
when you're feeling so inclined.

Beating a Dead Horse

Here's to every story
we will never make
to those glossy sounds
that give way
to the break
Cross your fingers
close your eyes
Unmake
There is nothing
stopping you
so don't wait
I have dug my nails in
too many ways
And my teeth have grated
your skin
I have picked apart
all the separate parts
And drawn the music out
as my bitter reward
So here's to every story
we will never make
to those glossy sounds
swallowed up by the break

The Shore

So it's come to this again

the rain is pouring

on the earth where I stand.

I'm still just myself

And I know, I'm sure

you know what I mean,

I feel like the writing in the sand.

Every wave that hits me

is your words undisguised.

You just keep me busy

and it's not advised

that I see that dark note in your eyes.

It makes me dizzy.

I feel like,

yes I feel like,

I feel like the writing in the sand.

Made of art by a steady hand

but fading

on this earth where I stand

and the earth is shaking.

I feel like the writing in the sand

I'm slipping away,

I can't pretend

that I don't feel,

yes I feel like,

I feel like the writing in the sand. 

The Choice

In this moment,
stagnant with unspent relief,
I feel like a nerve:
Exposed and Raw

In each hand,
and no matter how brief,
a choice to make
each leaving me bourgeois.

In hesitating
one is yet exhausted
leaving me
with nothing but one option.

The Land That Kept My Secret

There is a place,
(it isn't well known)
on the face of this Earth,
Where the Moss Campion has grown.

There is a lake,
it's waters freezing still,
where once upon a date
I gave up my free will.

And to this day,
where the frozen snow rests
and heavily weighs
upon a violet's chest

There lies the thing
I cherished the most.
With the broken string
of my childhood host.

There evergreen,
lies my spirit to fight
next to these peregrine
treasures of mine.

There is a place,
(it isn't well known)
on the face of this Earth
and the Campion still grows

One day when I come back,
the land-overgrown
will greet me, intact,
and have swallowed them whole.

Trinkets for your thinking

For every stupid thing I've said
You have a dime that's worse for wear
You claim the thoughts inside my head
And pull them out into the air

As if a single golden coin
Could be the thing that makes this right
Yeah, to the victor go the spoils
And all my words can spoil the night

They stain my lips, they stain the air
And mark the atmosphere you breathe
They taint the ground on which you walk
Yeah, they can soil your precious streets

You'll never pay me for discretion
You'll never bribe away the truth
I'm so far gone beyond retention
Your efforts are a point that's moot

A dam is loose, a seal is broke
There's nothing now that you could do
No lengths that you could ever go to
That wouldn't perish in the smoke

The Truth will out, the Truth will go
Wherever Truth sees fit to be
And though it have no other place
This Truth will have a place in me

*Dimes are not gold- this is besides the point.

Broken Branches

Hold on to the illusion

that one day it will get better,

Hold on to it because you know

the alternative is bitter

And it’s quicker

To fight with a smile on your face

Instead of counting

the time that you waste

We had some words

Yeah, and we always came apart

I never found my way back to the start

And I can tell

You never really adjusted well

In this purgatory or hell,

you know...the place you dwell

You’re in limbo in my mind

And I’m stuck in the rewind

Wrote it so many times –

if only I could find

Just a way-just a sentinel,

some road to follow

I would beg, I would borrow,

I would give away tomorrow

Does it matter really?

You slander me so freely

It’s not an accident

but a choice you make daily

I’m the broken branches

of a tree with rotten roots

I’m evil too boot and it’s not that cute

I’m just a mean person –

I’m the jerk you love to hate

I’m everything that grates

on your nerves, it’s too late

I can’t be changed.

It doesn’t matter much

All I am is out of touch

I fall behind on

every point of adult life.

And it’s fine

This misery is purely mine

And I’ll love it dearly

until the end of my time.