Tops.

Spin, spin, spin,

Carve circles in the wood.

Little dendochrons that prove,

That we aged on this table.

Tilt, tilt, tilt,

On your axis and beyond,

Sway about in monochrome,

And dance to the silence.

Fall and raise,

Then tug at my fortune,

Pull it along on a string,

And watch me change colors.

Faster, faster, faster,

Turn faster than the Earth,

So that days turn to years,

But seasons never change.

Red, Blue, Green,

Map my life in colors,

Carry my soul on your tip,

And my future in your trail.

Don't slow down,

Convalesce back to life,

Keep my eyes on your frame,

And mind on your existence.

Stumble now,

Take my euphoria too,

Let my elation fade away,

To the sound of your falling.

Still, still, still,

Be still and be stunned,

Hush me when I complain,

That there is no after-life.

Broad-Way.

I like to watch them smile,
when they pose,
in front of New York,
and all it's blinking lights.

That could be me,
stumbling out of Grand Central,
in baggy clothes,
and sunglasses.

Then I think,
That this could be me instead,
Surrounded by green walls,
and paperwork,
Clicking 'save',
and moving on.

Morning Came Too Late.

This late September,
I chased white cars,
While you hurt me,
in your sleep.

This late September,
I smoked your cigarettes,
When you never came,
and I waited anyway.

It's Quiet, But I'm Sure, There's Something Here.

Could you tell me when this summer expires,
So I can start preparing for winter?
Could you leave me a note,
When my love is dire,
So I won't care anymore?

I'm so scared of loving,
That being loved isn't fair,
When forevers don't last long enough,
And the hearts, they cease to care.

You're so insecure, you're stuck in your mind.
You're oh, so demure, you refuse to unwind.

But it's your delusions that need clearing,
That only reinforce,
The conviction that your loving,
Isn't needed anymore.

Do I see an infinite, when I look in your eyes?
Do I see an absolute, when you make me smile?
Don't hate me, cuz I'm crying,
I ain't that insecure.
Don't leave, cuz I'm trying,
Not to care anymore.

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.