privatized astronomy

someday when it stops spinning
i'll finally stop loving her
(i'm not talking about our planet
i'm talking about my head)
and when the planets realign
and the constellations fall apart
bringing in new zodiacs for generations to come
they will praise her shape
formed by the star dust i've cried at night
and every new civilization will worship her
but never love her more than i do
cause to them she'll be legends of old
just like to her i'll be that stupid boy

night of the living dead (halloween never ends)

losing myself in cold sweats
suspended animation - frozen fears
but there's something
about the way i hear your voice
through the winter winds.
whisper your way back to me
so i can claw through this pinebox
that i've locked myself in.
nothing feels the same anymore.
but you're fire and my bed has sheets
that i use to put you out with.
no more crocodile tears
but more chameleon skin
so when you see me outside
i'll be lurking in.
i've been fucked over more
than a bathroom stall
and the sweat on my cheekbone
was a tear hiding in plain sight
and i know i know better
but this feeling inside
comes crawling like if romero
wrote my love life
my room should be padded
it's already all white
and i only wear long sleeves
for my poker face heart
and you're the only cure to being alone
white jacket fashion for winter blues
i'm a powdered writer
"just add water"
but my heart is too.
but now as i get older
being this reckless isn't as charming as it was
back when girls used to love me
for my woefully poetic broken heart

but the good old days
aren't as good as we remember
we think we're getting smarter
we're only getting older
and this mobius strip (tease)
is just getting that much more longer
and i'll breathe only for tonight
while you hang your posters
"wanted dead or alive"

call me barry allen
cause i'm the flashpoint paradox
and i need the speed force
so i can run back in time
and stop myself from ever writing
and to spare myself the nights
i've spent countless hours longing
for a better, sane mind