styxthedrummer

The bell always rings. There are always echos. The forgotten dreams. As the perfect yellows. a misproportioned truth Gilded in my youth Leading my desires Onto something higher Onto something false Mostly onto loss cause I can't have perfect cause she wasn't worth it. But you weren't that case You came and replaced All my points of view All I thought I knew Came, reset my eyes Then rebuilt new lies. You stepped out of view And I lost sight of you Slowly your voice waning Now forever fading Out and to the background Down to nothing. No sound But you're still in my ear. Still in there crystal clear I've tried to kill y

i think you are lovely. but i am not in love with you, and by the fifth time you catch my eye and look away just as quickly, i realize that i cannot will myself into being so. if love were as simple as a field of flowers, i swear i would pick you a bouquet of daises, and make sure that every petal you picked off ended with ‘she loves me’. if love were as reliable as the sun, i would never stand so far away from you that our shadows did not touch. if love were as predictable as the weather, i swear i would spend every storm kissing you in the rain. if love were as fair as Lady Justice i would tie a scarf around my eyes and sp

there is an angel sitting next to me. her hands are tucked like wings against each other, each blue life-vein peeking out through too-white, too-thin skin. a dog-earred copy of The Great Gatsby waits in the pocket of the seat in front of her. any other day, that might be a metaphor, but today it is just a lonely book whose owner is even lonelier. there is an angel in the plane seat next to me. while i am closing my eyes to say goodbye to the ground, she is opening hers wider to say hello to the sky. her spine is bending against the metal side, like maybe if she pushed enough she could be free. as the plane starts moving faster and faster,

(so) Comon little mockingbird  lets battle the night Come bellow your melody  and harrow delight On pressing til dawn  has relinquished its light Enduring the long  and belabored mid night.

i), The first time I met the girl who started a revolution the sky was throwing down so much rain it felt like we were underwater. It was hard to breathe; and maybe that was because of all the rain, but probably it was because I looked at her face, under this dark red hood, and inside I was a story with all these feelings I could never say. I guess those feelings could only ever become words on paper - words in ink - not the kind I could ever speak aloud to anybody, if only because I couldn't bear for a person to see the look on my face while I remembered. Despite how good it felt - so hopeful, so desperately happy for what it was and could

So will I have to win her over? Find her like a four-leaf clover? Coax her from the jealous earth and pull until my fingers hurt? Or will she willfully concede? Look up at me and find release Give up her tiny plot of earth and give this new creation birth?

we've lost the touch to reality. we fall in love with strangers, picturing their stories and minds as we please. we start dancing in the streets as at the times we felt no one was watching. we attach to things so easily; to that pen we use everyday to put down our thoughts into words, to that bracelet we got on that trip where we felt everlasting, to that person we met just yesterday and who we can't get our mind off. we're dying and coming alive again with the characters in the books we read, we hold them to our breasts and say "this is me black on white". our mood changes within a second when the first line of this specific song comes on. w

She is my blessing She is my curse A dualistic stigmata that sets me apart. Like a big fish in a small pond I am stunted Limited in growth and movement In what I can and can not do But I would never trade it away Despite the difficulties she hands me, for Cutting off the wings of an angel Is a most heinous of crimes The wolf who runs against the grain of the pack May find himself alone; stranded; isolated But, he has the satisfaction that he plodded on On his own volition And did not blindly follow the consensus of the majority

I heard you drew a line. You made it light and fine. A perfect true design That will not fade with time. So I'll be not discouraged, I'll look beneath the surface. On to the other side And just enjoy the ride. We're very often candid Unruly and abandoned Believing this as final Surviving for survival Caught up in happenstance Regarding all as chance Unwary of the maker So many here are fakers But only if they knew The perfect line you drew. Then we could see the view Of time composed by you.