The town looked like a mouse under the shadow of an elephant. Clouds that spread throughout the sky turned smoky black; bulging and impregnated with rain. The wind was strong and danced with the leaves on the ground. They twirled in mini tornadoes like nervous ballerinas.

        No one was there, nothing was around.

        Isolation crept in. It seeped through the cracks in the border, and flooded the town. The wind picked up the leaves and brushed them past the dirt roads, and the dirt joined the dancers, and the dirt was suffocated within the spinning. The wind brushed past rocks and twigs and they too were enveloped in the tornado of debris.

        The wind flew by fragments of old signs that once held the title of respected places. But these places were gone now, and no one was here to respect them. It was only the wind left to feel mighty; to be out on the town, to have places to go and people to see.

       The shadows of the decaying buildings orchestrated themselves as fading images on the ground. They lengthen in sun as the days turn into cold, frigid nights, and the nights mould back into repeated days with little contrast to the day before, expect for the wind moving a little more north, and leaving the town a little more empty; a little more alone. 

My mind is gone, i'm moving slow, my heart is on my sleeve.

Old photographs remind me of when we were so aimless.

Blue eyes against blue skies, but it was in the night when I came alive.

Running into your arms on the sidewalks, being held at your height,

I was so filled with worry, I was surprised you could carry my weight.

So sad, so many lows, I was just digging a hole.

Going to hide away somewhere where time moves slow.

A fog that will never be lifted, sunshine never appears.

I'll slip slowly into darkness and i'll learn to understand

exactly what I am afraid, and what exactly you posses,

that makes me want to burn your picture in the fire,

but at a simple glance, makes me want to smile so wide,

let out all the happiness inside, you're not what I want you to be.

But how you truly are I will never know... I will never see.

"Raven," you say, over and over you play that same tape.

"Raven," you say, over and over again you explain to me the Macy's parade,

all over in splattered colours were the infinite arrangement of Robin's Egg Blue,

and some type of pink that you wore so well.

You said you saw the moon spinning backwards, said that there was life in outer space.

Light coming from the sky at night where there are no lamp posts,

no familiar faces you would recognize.

Where everything would seem foreign, no disguise would match the sorrow.

Barren lands, and corn fields for their farewells, and goodbyes.

"Jesus of Nazareth! Sweet Jesus of Nazareth!" Pointing fingers at who was to blame.

Dead scholars say that history could never be tamed, difficult to believe if you think of it

as a written timeline in a book with no spine.

Bending back and forth across the lines of fact and fiction.

You were too real too be right, too right to be wrong.

I felt you, I know you, you're voice sounded to true,

I felt you, you can't deny that I ever held you, and your voice it sounded so true!

Now when I hear the voice of angels, I'll be too use to them.

Won't be able to believe them when I hear them won't be able to follow through.

And I know they'll give me guidance, and I know they'll give me hope,

but don't expect me to follow them when they're leading me back home.

I want to forget the patterns that you took to get into my heart.

I want to feel the urgency again that lead me to fall apart.

And it was who you was so hopeful now i'm calling out your bluff.

Saying "no it can't happen," but you have waited long enough.

Now we're left calling each other out, rebuking all our flaws.

I'm staring you down and now the claws come out.

You're holding grudges at the top shelf waiting for them to tumble down,

and there's so much at stake, but why do I feel like I have nothing else to lose?

Because when you found me, and I found you.

It never felt like a gain...

just another entry to the cycle

of lust, and loss.

It's just lust and then you're gone.

and as lonely boy goes back to

lonely girl

their skin touches but it's not the first time

he collapses onto her

but it's not the first time

he knows the map of her body

inside, mostly inside

and out.

and he knows her favourite places to be touched

and touching her is what he knows best

inside, mostly inside

and out.

her heart

if you can imagine it

does not beat the same pulse

you would

skip down the street with,

let's say.

more like

a feeling you're

trying to show

and no one believes you

and you make fountains of

your eyes

and no one can see you

being sincere.

that pace.

that slow monotonous drone

of pity and a whole lot of empathy

but no touch that makes you think

'I am loveable'

so her heart doesn't pulse

a normal beat

it goes in such a way

that would make you wonder

if it's even beating at all

'the weather is nice'

but it's raining.

they still same the damn thing

anyways.

no matter what.

so this life you live

(keep in mind you are

growing)

is seeming to be more and more like

a stencilaformatawaytobe

a way to be

without the need of lonely boy.

with feeling his touch

inside, mostly inside

and out.

(but he's alone in the city, he's asleep in the ground. he is nothing, he is nothing he is nothing ....

do you know what he's dreaming about?

it's not you,

it won't ever be you.

if you can imagine,

and I know this might be hard to take,

but lonely boy

just can't love lonely boy

more than he loves you.

so now you regret being one with your own life

seeing things for how they are

once you moved from the frame

he was ready to take that picture

so what's it going to be?

and lonely boy

and lonely girl

collapse onto each other

familiar geographies

are really quite

soothing

and so her heart beats

slowly

crescendo.

inevitable heartbreak.

and it's alright.

I guess I can be vulnerable for a while, and act out compassionately towards it.

I guess I can pretend to understand your pain, or how you deal with your sorrow.

But I don’t think I ever will, not for now at least.

I’ll be the first to admit, that I'm caught up in my own thoughts.

All my unnecessary complaints that I know are all bullshit, mean a lot to me now, and I'm trying to get them out.

But where will I put them? Misery loves company, but it’s also quite vain.

So I’ll have to stay away from you for now, and I'm sorry for the wait.

But I’ll make it up to you, I know I will.

Because once I'm done with spring cleaning, we’ll have beautiful summer days to just lie around, all night to just talk, and discuss how we’re going to slowly slip away

from all this shit we’re dealing with; all these people who are pointless.

Try to free ourselves from vanity and petty issues that stress us out.

We’ll try to strip off all our baggage, try to cut it loose from all its chains.

And we’ll be lighter than ever before, and we’ll be quicker on our feet, and it’ll be easier to get away without making a sound.

We’ll realize that all we ever needed was right next to us in this heat.

More like right beside me, as I try to keep my smile to a reasonable size, but it’s getting harder because it’s really getting wide.

You’re doing something right, I'm sure of it; I just can’t put my finger on it.

I heard a lot of laughter, and I heard a lot of chanting; chanting my name

And I knew I could do it, if I just put my mind to it, but something was holding me back.

I couldn’t shrug off the feeling of a life left unfinished.

Of loopholes that are beyond my control; because I could never take control.

And I could never put a key into a lock, or put a foot into an open door.

I could never grasp the concept of letting someone get to me, or becoming someone else, or believing in what I needed to believe in.

The morning mirror sees me getting paler each day.

The afternoon cleansing says that i'm still the same.

And though I try to manipulate my mind it never seems to change.

I try to see this life I lead as something real to me.

Something tangible that i've created, a masterpiece to claim.

Hindsight is a privilege I just haven't created yet.

Give me a few more years and a few more men to spark my tears,

and i'll be fine.

I'll have something to contrast my sorrow to,

yeah i'll be fine.

What are you subscribing to my love? Because you seem to have lost your way.

Is it the books you read or the things you see that make you turn your head?

Because it seems like you turn your back more often than before.

Now I know it's something different; colour has drained from your face.

Laughter lines are now just wrinkles; worry seeps into your veins

Those words... those cutting words….

Remember a girl that use to be colourful?

That would toss her hair back at the boys and the colour would rush down their bodies,

and she would stand with a grin,

she knew she would win,

at just about anything to do with luck.

Remember a girl that use to have spirit?

And she would weep at a crying child,

and she would parade around in her colours,

and she would raise the hopes of peers,

and she would get rid of your fears,

because you let her get to you.

I remember that girl who had a colourful spirit.

There's a boy that remembers that colourful spirit,

as he saw her turn her head,

as he saw her turning into a shadow,

as she turned into the dark.

Are you impressed at how you live this life your life?

A stepping stone.

Pulsing with heat, throbbing with lust.

You were her source of all this black sunshine; you knew she would give up.

All these depressing rays of light, blowing smoke through twisted windows.

You would laze around your, days and see that she was always there.

Just an excuse for a soul, to get things with and lose herself;

she had eyes that could sell,

and you thought maybe you could put it to good.

“Wise,” they say, the Catawba say; “Snakebites cure the sick.”

As you watched her waste away and no day was ended without a ray of black sunshine

because she just wanted a fix, and it was you who could give it.

But you never bit.