Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Ears Ringing Like My Eyes

loaded guns and sinking ships
we're like burnt out cars on the city ring
burning rubber without a care at all
do you remember?
do you sit alone and wonder
to be forever in doubt
forever in pain
forever in him
these words sink into your skin
like the teeth in your kin
blood and sweat off your plastic cup
drowning is easier than it is to love
sick and distorted in midnight growls
your roses are sticking with petals on the prowl
where have you gone?

lets get sick off each other
i want to stick onto your hair
forever, like smoke, follow you there
into the dreams and hopes you left behind
when your lips crossed over to another side
are we constantly left over
or are we over since you left?
when all i feel is crimson and clover
i can't be bothered by the rest

with so much love, it's hard to feel blue
knowing deep inside of me
there's a huge part of you
look into the mirror and fall back outside
where books read forever
and we're escaping without a ride
thunderstorm and run away
and now i'm crawling my guts over
what's left of my heart inside
these words cracked my lonely cover
and i'm feeling you up alright

hate me baby
i'm a riot in start
i'm a sinking ship
with the anchor too far
down
into
your
eyes

are we ok, or will we just let this die?

2 comments:

  1. "I want to stick onto your hair/Forever, like smoke..."

    that line was my favorite, because it seemed so tangible and strangely convoluted, too, and i imagined the dim haze of a cigarette filled bar, with all the darkest corners that try to hide who we all really are... i dunno, but when a line can conjure up an entire spectrum of scene and emotion, that's powerful stuff.

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  2. thank you, your words really hit a spot for me and managed to make me feel like my misery is actually serving me some good in any way. your comments give me a sense of comfort - as if others are riding along with me. thank you.

    I suppose that sometimes we just want to be remembered instead of being let go and drowning out into the miserable sea of memories that the past can be. hyperboles aside, I guess I just never want to be forgotten.

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