Coffins, my dear. Coffins.

Like the doves on your wrist you wing through my mind
all day long
Like the red in your hair you are the life in my blood
that keeps my heart beating
Don't close the door, don't close the door
on me
cause I want you to know
that you are the reason im so cold
Like the air in the fall and the leaves on the ground
all around
Sending chills down my spine
Like rain in the clouds you bring tears to my eyes
falling falling falling down
cause i want you to be
the voice i don't have and the poise that i lack
just don't close the door
to your heart

But it didn't happen that way
the red haired bird flew
A nail through my wooden home
and the culprit floated away
the roof is peppered with shovels of dirt

For myself - With love and squalor

There are no silent brooks
but some trees fall unnoticed

some rocks go unturned
And the heart and mouth
do not always connect

Like cupping two palms
to draw water for drink
The heart has so much to say
it runs over the edges
So when raising it up
to quench the thirst
The mouth sadly finds
most of the substance had slipped through the cracks

So little makes it through the lips
that only a stunted version
of what was meant to be said
is ever really verbalized

So with a dehydrated mouth
and a heart about to burst
I slosh about
hoping to strike the rock
and have water spring forth
Or waiting for an angel
with a divining rod

There's an ocean of life under this course surface
and I've yet for another one to want it

And my vision is illegible and my concentration fades
two and three times for a sentence
and one or less times is my s-e-n-t-e-n-c-e

A lion is stalking us

And what are we all running from?
Like groups of gazelles, certain a lion is stalking us
stumbling together through a savannah
while a predator lurks

A casino floor with stilettos for hooves
Holding our wounded and weak up with liquor
Hoping to stave off aggressors
with sheer numbers

The blistering city streets are lined with watering holes
but the water is toxic
not fit but to speed up our capture
the Lion is stalking us
And he is patient

Eventually the wrong move is made
stumbling down the wrong alley
collapsing on the wrong bed
You can only shed a tear and lie
While the Lion waits for you to die

A mortal mistake is sprinting to make an escape
And what are we running from anyway