Can you taste the little things
on your tongue?
the bile?
the catalyst?
the fragments of shattered hope?
Can you smell the toxic paint that
chokes my lungs and coats my bones?
Can you breathe in deeply, Dreamer,
with that iron weight
around your waist?
Can you stand to watch them waltz
when someone else has
stole your place?
Don't worry Dreamer- it's alright
just bury your face, just let out a sigh
and drain the colors as you cry
so quietly-
poor Alice died
so silently.
And nothing seems to work out as you planned,
intellectually
undetectably
in pain because the autumn colors
drown in all the gray,
skeleton trees left shivering,
shaking in their place,
camouflage of the somber cityscape
against November's dreary haze-
but you held on
to the shrapnel of summer,
the ever-fleeting
warmer evenings.
In late afternoon, coming off that high
daydreaming of those dreamy eyes,
you start thinking that
you've died inside,
the unbreakable now broken,
went and lost yourself in
neon lights and motel signs,
vision spinning on a Tuesday night
heart full of heat, head full of fright when it hits you-
that you've fallen in love with her smile.
and you've fallen in love with her mind.
So at midnight come the snarling lips,
The blood stained hip and skinny lines
drawn red on paper skin,
and you throw away silver plate,
while friends negate the loss of (weight) appetite,
the reflection, bitter,
thus comes the cry,
"Get over yourself."
(Remember Dreamer,
they'll always tell you lies.)
And after Wednesday's interlude
come the tears,
so salty and cold down your cheek,
they leave trails in their wake,
decisions that you failed to make
all settle on backburner of the brain,
you'll find this head is haunted
it's words all improvised
you'll find a lost identity,
forgotten all it's lines because
you just don't know who you are anymore.
Does anyone know who you are anymore?
Gently drops fell down the face
when they told you nothing
stays the same,
it's all about reflection, but sometimes
even memories will fade
all the things we've done-
they'll fade.
all the ones we loved-
they'll fade.
and it scares you senseless, Dreamer,
that you've started
to s l i p a w a y .
