My brain is aflame as it rains and explains the life insane as it rolls and rocks with urges and thoughts and spills through the thrills of my energized frame. 'Tween the low and the high, I'm piercing the sky with no means to fly but my frantic supply of dreams and drive as I live and I die, minute by minute.
Do you remember that night, the night we first kissed?
Me in my Sunday best, you in that summer dress.
The one I will forever measure your best, till the end of days,
in spite of the countless fashion candidates to follow.
Here I sit in my math class, feeling fine, except for my ass.
I stretch, I yawn, let it all hang out, but I get too loose, and my tongue falls out.
There’s a girl on my left, a guy to my right, I shake my head and they watch the sight.
I start to drool, I start to shake, I forget my ass, as my head now aches...
If you dream of flying and I dream of dying, who’s the one crying for help?
You yearn for things, only my dream can bring, while I do not lie to myself.
To dream that you can, do things beyond man is exactly what I myself do.
But you try to clasp what lies past your grasp while I, to myself remain true.
Your fantastical dreams bring your life to its knees
In the end, you must take from yourself.
So, if you dream of flying and I dream of dying, who’s the one crying for help?
The loneliest place you will ever land,
is the rocky shore beneath your own skin.
Somewhere between your dreams and the past,
trapped between the "who you were" and "the who I am".
An island adrift from those you hold dear,
marooned in a sea formed from your tears.
Your only hope for salvation,
the tenuous belief the weight you carry
has made you strong enough to swim.
In these dreams I dream these days
that a secret fear I’d locked away
and hoped to never bring this way
has finally come to call.
I stumble forth from sheets still wet
in sleep I dampened them with sweat
while try I might but never yet
have I made it past these walls...
She chases her dreams like raindrops chase gravity down a pane of glass
tracing erratic patterns on their way to an end
to merge with others as they collide along the way
breaking free when it's time, taking pieces from each
not lonely but always, in the end, alone.
Time has stolen my confidence
My mind has stolen my youth
Each day is a question
Each answer - half lie, less truth
I built myself a family
Believed I had a plan
Discovered belief was for the living
Learned how to be a broken man
How furious the flaming tiger grows
when eager his heart and passion shows
but the bitter sweet of life he knows
is but the hollow smack of death’s black, black kiss.
How sad that he shan’t be missed.