angelShe is a musician.Pale grey eyes that are half closed and blood shot most of the time.Crimson colored hair, the kind you can only get out of a box, sways down to her frail hips,But the incognito blonde peeks out at the roots.She leans her skinny body against the cold brick wall like it's Home Base in a game of tag.A cigarette hangs from her lips, a violin from her fingers.They're melancholy tunes that she pulls from those strings,But they harmonize with the clatter of coins being tossed in a jar.They watch her like she's an angel.They hear her like she's a prayer.She sings about money, and love, and other seemingly empty things.And when they ask her if she is trying to save the world she speaks,"Why should I?When has the world ever saved me?"
Lighthouse RailingI am more a storyteller and less a narrator.Unfolding the map of you, I spread it across my floorboards.The polaroid corners are worn and no longer sharp.Its colors have faded and bled to the borders.What is an edge, but an entrance to somewhere we'd rather be.I'm tracing our backroad route,Remembering the speed limit I gave you to break.My thumb falters around each curve.Post card worthy pictures flash-flood my memory.Regret seeps in through my fingertips.I hear it fluttering in my tendons.You're watching me and you know I know that.Happiness is a place between You and Then and I can't get there from here.
To The Girl...To the girl whois up to her ankles in tears,and up to her knees in blood.To the girl whoremembers oh too well what it's liketo be shoved against a wall.Screamed at.Slapped hard across the face.To the girl whodoesn't even register the word"disappointment" anymore,because she's heard it too many times.To the girl whodoesn't trust anyone anymore,even herself,because she knows better.To the girl whoreads the same books over and over again,because they're all she hasto help her forget.To the girl whobites at her skinwhen she starts to remember what was said.To focus. To sting.To shake it all out of her head.To the girl whodidn't think she was strong enoughto make the choice to see another day.She didn't want to wake up one more time.To the girl whoheard screaming and yellingthrough the paper thin walls,and made excuses to walk by.To get a glass of water, to check the windows were shut.Because, when she walked by...It stopped. For just a moment.To the girl
Dark Angeloh, darkest of all angels,i give you something of mine -my heart, my soul, my innocence...i give you the very world i live in,i'll give you everythingif from the temples aboveshall you descend into my arms...just make me feelwhat only few before me knew,make me sense the mysteryand the awakening of heart and soul...if only for one moment,i beg you - let me feast uponyour eyes as they show melove yet untained,soul yet untouched,feeling yet unshared...so come, come now,and make me feel ecstasy -for only in your armsshall i feel true love,true pain, and conquer all...so fall from the skies...fall and make me suffer -and rejoice -and bleed -and cry with seeds of tears...you have all power over me...you are my dark angel...
tear-stained pillowcases i can't breathe. every breath i take my heart screams; resists. i can't breathe. you are my