Ache.

And if you're ever around, in the city or the suburbs, of this town,


Be sure to come around,


I'll be wallowing in sorrow,
wearing a frown,
like Pierrot the Clown.


Don't be sad, little boy, little boy,
Don't be mad, they're just little toys.

You, Always.

If I kissed your neck right now, would you feel it at all?
If called your name again, would you run to me,
like you did yesterday,
and the day before,
but not too long ago?

If I lay down again, would you hold me in your arms?
If I showed you my scars, would you take them away,
like you did with your lips,
like you did with your kiss,
and with your heart?

If I stumbled as a I walked, would you support me again?
If I twirled as we danced, would you balance me,
hold me by the fingers,
hold me by the warmth,
and with your eyes?

If we slurred our love again, would you say it?
If we touched again, would you feel me entwined,
with the fabric of your skin,
with the digits of your body,
and with your soul?

If I hadn't insisted, would it have been different?
If I hadn't persisted, would we have smiled today,
and cried together when apart,
and think of each other tonight,
instead of just me?

If hadn't professed my love, would you have?
If you hadn't confessed your past, would I,
tell you that you could never be,
tell you that it's not enough,
and that I wish it were?

If I grew tired and fell asleep, would I dream?
If I woke up, would I feel your absence,
feel you not calling for me anymore,
feel you not miss me like I do you,
and feel nothing at all?

Would you still call me angel and turn off my lights?
Would you still smile after you finished your words?

Would you listen to me love you forever,
Even if, you couldn't love me back?

You would.
You could.

You did.

Oranges & Purple Clocks.

Meh. I haven't been writing, so I thought I'd post something I wrote about an year ago.

Tick Tock.

My purple clock,

Could I spin you around one more time?

Sleep not,

Your endless mock,

and your sweet insulting rhyme.

Orange Here,

And seeds to taste,

Could I cut myself another slice?

Orange Fear,

Those seeds I hate,

Could you bring me Misery Pie?

Severed Hands,

Kneel them neat,

Point them in the right direction.

Metal strands,

Time to keep,

The clock's timed inflection.

Pointing Me,

One-man compass,

Could I use such navigation?

Pointless See,

One-man use us,

Orange my Obliteration.

Severed Feet,

Massacre please,

Blood upon the hour.

Pretty Sweet,

Chiming tweet,

The milk is turning sour.

Hic-Hic,

Inavded Vision,

Its 13 o' Clock in the City.

Lipping Stick,

Fertilization,

Little limbs aren't pretty.

Nightings, Good.

Sleeping Tight.

Oranges and Clocks will sing.

Sighting Blood,

Meeting Fights,

And revelations, I will bring.