floralequinox

I passed you on my walk today I didn't know you came this way I've been avoiding you for years, it's true But there's no stopping seeing you Even if it's just a glance Through an unexpected act of chance I guess I'll see you on my walk again tonight I passed you at the carnival ground While you were laughing by the clowns There's no use hiding-- yes, one of them was me It didn't matter because you couldn't see Me through the crowd of fools And anyway, sight has certain rules I'll make sure you see me on the highwire I passed you through my kitchen door It's like you're not around anymore You've just been here so long, I guess

If words could tell the story There'd be no more need for war and I'd be home at ten like the good little poet I am If paint could make a picture There'd be more to do than sit here I'd be building up my brush and canvas shelf If pitch could weave a melody There might be room for you and me I like to think I can write that down without a tear If currency could buy me love There'd be enough to spend on drugs I'd buy them all to fight off the memories of us If birds could really fly There'd be reason enough to try I'd make it to the next day with my head held up somewhere If ships could safely sail There'd be no wind to oppose

There are many questions I'd like to ask Death Before he's standing in my hall. Do you think he'll answer With a meak or broad voice? Or will he even answer at all? Does he wear flesh? Does he see with eyes? Are his lips forever parted? Did he, too, live once Upon this earth or Die before life started? Is he truly black, As stories say, Or is that mere fallacy? Does his heart feel Mortal pangs of love And break so easily? Is his breathing steady, And will I hear it? Will I see it, too? Do his footsteps Make a sound, Or glide above the blue? Is his coming scheduled, Or do I have time To look the other way? When he t

love  n. 1  a delicate instrument crafted to compliment an inflammable surface but burnable substance never elucidate only illuminate a network of halos excessively tallowed often in symmetry if not, then in sympathy to a radiant radial too often a rental when a finite descision commands a rescision of one condescending through a punitive ending; 2  not of terrestrial make

There's a flower in my garden I never meant to grow It's not quite like a lily And colored like a rose A weed, maybe, a hungry beast Planted there by Luck A looming traitor of the soil I just can't seem to pluck At dawn it blossoms, brightest be The petals it does flourish Remind me, every morning, Why I want to keep it nourished At evening I walk up to it And close its gentle whorls Then sleep to persuade myself I'm not a garden girl

Good morning, Present, it's Future calling. You really fucked me up. Just thought I'd let you know, y'know, You're not granting yourself much luck. But look, don't dote on Past; He's somewhere out of reach. It's me you want to worry about, Ok? So take a seat. Speaking of Past, let me say, I don't even have his number. I threw it out years ago In exchange for stressless summers. But me, oh my, oh graceful me, I've got several different clones, Each one with just a different pinch Of a specialty all your own. This one, here, Future 2.0, Well, he's rather lonely 'Cause you were hurt and forgot to trust And lost all your o

All water comes from the ocean All water comes from the sky This water from our Earth It's our mother and our birth It's the reason you and I are alive I got my water from the river You got your water from the well Mine's a little brown But yours was in the ground So why is it mine came from Hell? I poured my water in a clear glass You poured yours in a paper cup I know it tastes the same So will you please explain Why you think mine is so fucked up? Next time you ask me for a glass of water I will keep your preferences in mind But when I turn the knob And the faucet starts to sob I'll be pouring you a glass of cyanide

If you choose not to see me If you choose to be blind I'll be the person You leave left behind If you forget that I matter If you forget that I count I'll be the person They whisper about If you choose not to hear me If you choose to be deaf I'll be the person You ignored to death Then I'll be your poltergeist I'll be your ghost I'll be the person That haunts you the most So Keep all your habits Keep all your tics I'll be the poltergeist You couldn't fix