Clinique Van Gogh
We were children playing in the rubble.
The bleak reality escaped our minds.
Our lenses gave it color,
washed it in a second life.
We lived beyond common perception,
building kingdoms in our heads.
But we couldn’t lay them out in time
and now the dream is dead.
And our lungs fill up with night,
as evening’s breath corrodes the light.
And I sing a lullaby-
dirge for the youth you left behind.
Oh, all the songs unsung that
died upon the tongue...
Because I died inside,
and now my heart is forever young.
Because I died inside,
and now my heart is forever young.
I play with my dolls while
you play with your guns.
Saint-Rémy de Provence, taste the night
beyond your bars.
The voices got me sinking;
I’m blind and seeing stars.
Ecstasy ignites, rides on
wings too clipped for flight.
And the ghosts in my head
sing “Come away”.
With guilt, pain and your toy
soldiers
I still play.
It hurts to stay.
So I stay.
Lipstick stains and golden chains,
dark dreams swimming in my veins.
Simplicity coddles the mind
and I decay alive.
Normalcy, this ache sublime.
I can hardly see your face
through
the washes of time.
The 405 pulses, ribbons of light
streaking past.
New time, new place,
but the thrills they never last.
And I’m stuck counting my
sanity like change.
Coz baby, it never stays the same.
Saint-Rémy de Provence, taste the night
beyond your bars.
The voices got me sinking;
I’m blind and seeing stars.
Ecstasy ignites, rides on
wings too clipped for flight.
And the ghosts in my head
sing “Come away”.
With guilt, pain and your toy
soldiers
I still play.
And my mind carries me softly
to that day...
It hurts to stay.
So I stay.
When the moonlight beckons,
I tie one hand to the bed
so that I don’t float away
or wake up dead.
And when starlight
freckles the face of night
I turn my eyes toward the ground
and pray my shoes are still
heavy enough to hold me down.
Saint-Rémy de Provence, taste the night
beyond your bars.
The voices got me sinking;
I’m blind and seeing stars.
Ecstasy ignites, rides on
wings too clipped for flight.
And the ghosts inside my mind
sing “Come away”.
With guilt, pain and your
toy
soldiers
I still play.
And my mind drags me softly
to that place...
It hurts to stay.
So I stay.
But I pray we’ll meet again
someday.
Explanation: The sadness and guilt and madness a woman feels for her soldier husband who was killed. Or...interpretational. I suppose this is kinda’ inspired by Lana Del Rey, among other content creators. Some of it’s a callback to my older work that no longer exists on here.