rage and recovery

danger has a name and its yours

running through the streets

whiskey bottles in my fist

the moon follows as i weave through

the ghost town roads of this heart

my heart beating in my throat

and panting breaths stinging my chest

remind me that im running from 

something that i cant escape

but when running is all you know how to do

that burning fear is twisted in your scattered mind

and your longing heart mistakes it for

passion, desire, love, electricity

but the lightening in your veins

is not the kind you stand at the door and watch

with wonder in your eyes

this kind of lightening should make

the hair on the back of your neck prickle

and raise the tornado siren in your mind

men like this are the worst kind of disaster 

soft blue eyes and soft blonde hair and

a smile thats a little too sharp

a wolf in sheeps clothing

heartbreak dressed up like salvation

so they tell you to stop putting feet to pavement

to breathe the night air softly, with relish

but they dont see that glint in his eyes

the burning inferno lurking  underneath the surface

but you, you see that sharp knife hidden

just behind his back, fist clenched tight

and you feel the burn of its blade

as it plunges into your beating heart

and as you lie on the pavement

blood circling your form like a halo

you realize that pretty words

and gorgeous blue eyes

are far more deadly

than any monsters that lurk

in the corners and back alleys

of that ghost town heart