Thursday, 27 January 2011
Tuesday, 25 January 2011
Sun floods your eyes, as cold pierces my bones.
You lay staring at me. You, there, throwing stones,
Was that a glint of emotion that sleepily shone?
Were you just waiting there 'til I was gone.
This probably ended before it'd begun;
I wonder if its time was done
While I was up in the clouds, my dreams on the run;
Then I forgot the sullen, sweltering sun.
You may think the breeze is warm,
As the air caresses your face.
Worms squirm through me in swarms,
Just feel frost's cold embrace.
While my face goes numb in the winter air,
My flesh rots, my features fall off in despair.
My eyelashes burn in the aloofness of your glare.
You, you let the sun shine off your hair.
You lay staring at me. You, there, throwing stones,
Was that a glint of emotion that sleepily shone?
Were you just waiting there 'til I was gone.
This probably ended before it'd begun;
I wonder if its time was done
While I was up in the clouds, my dreams on the run;
Then I forgot the sullen, sweltering sun.
You may think the breeze is warm,
As the air caresses your face.
Worms squirm through me in swarms,
Just feel frost's cold embrace.
While my face goes numb in the winter air,
My flesh rots, my features fall off in despair.
My eyelashes burn in the aloofness of your glare.
You, you let the sun shine off your hair.
Sunday, 23 January 2011
Day after day, love turns grey
Like the skin of a dying man
Night after night, we pretend it's all right
But I have grown older and
You have grown colder and
Nothing is very much fun anymore.
And I can feel one of my turns coming on.
I feel, cold as a razor blade
Tight as a tourniquet
Dry as a funeral drum,
Run to the bedroom, in the suitcase on the left
You'll find my favourite axe
Don't look so frightened
This is just a passing phase
Just one of my bad days
Would you like to watch T.V.?
Or get between the sheets?
Or contemplate the silent freeway?
Would you like something to eat?
Would you like to learn to fly?
Would you like to see me try?
Would you like to call the cops.
Do you think it's time I stopped?
Why are you running away?
Like the skin of a dying man
Night after night, we pretend it's all right
But I have grown older and
You have grown colder and
Nothing is very much fun anymore.
And I can feel one of my turns coming on.
I feel, cold as a razor blade
Tight as a tourniquet
Dry as a funeral drum,
Run to the bedroom, in the suitcase on the left
You'll find my favourite axe
Don't look so frightened
This is just a passing phase
Just one of my bad days
Would you like to watch T.V.?
Or get between the sheets?
Or contemplate the silent freeway?
Would you like something to eat?
Would you like to learn to fly?
Would you like to see me try?
Would you like to call the cops.
Do you think it's time I stopped?
Why are you running away?
Sunday, 9 January 2011
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