it is with joy that we announce our dearly departed:
conviction.
it bore no affliction but repetition
and your inability to recognize a vulnerable condition

your waking hours are not alone in my occupation
because the night does something to you
that no other time will do:
bringing out your greatest fear
that someday i might leave you here

it’s not true
and i refuse to believe that there would ever be something greater than you
other than the uncertain
but there’s very little we can ever know
so what’s the point in having somewhere to go?

below every solid floor is a stronger roof
and all good architects know
that with so little support

things can end abruptly

more reparations than have ever crossed my mind
like grassroots on the inside
i call this home

and you call it dangerous territory
but it comes with expecting there’s a home for me
somewhere beneath cold decaying facades
and illusions too deep to see through the dark

forgive me, i’m little tossed by insecurity.
body language verbose enough to pedal through the sea.
religiously i’m changing tide
no names to call when you can see the death of me

through struggling mirrors and falling glass
i’m not quite familiar with your past
at least, not enough to set aside
the lies that you hold fast.
if i may falter, i am wrong,
but i’ll never be for long

and though my memory is fond of “we are the sun”
there’s little to attest that we’re the only ones
sinking in our own blood.
cold shivers do little more than set you free,
they remind you what you once felt every time you looked at me.

between bright lights an empty faces
shredded concrete and angry faces
i need to replace this honesty
because honestly
it’s not for me
and selfishness is more than i could ever need

hear the hum, how low,
sweet chariot, let’s take it slow.
how varies our words like changing tides
smiling waters on the inside
and breathe life like gasoline into my heart.
oh, how this engine keeps falling apart

warmth in warmer air
means there’s nowhere to be scared
i only mean the best when i’m never there.
gentle transit, hum a gentle tune.
when the nightlife sparks, i’m afraid to sleep next to you

if ever i should fall into the hands of the creator
these words will be hers
because somebody told me that the weak inherit the earth.
and she knows of no intention though she sees through my skin,
but every time i’m falling down i know i’m falling in.

revolt.
it’s easy not to hold yourself accountable
for headaches and lost trust.
well, it must not have meant much
if you give the truth to me.
now there are things that i can see
and they’re bringing you down
like the pouring rain that floods this ground.

what once was set in stone
is now a mirror to your home
and sometimes i forget what it’s like to be alone.
so let me go,
i have years to show.
i may build in trinities but circles give me hope.

once she was a girl with stars in her eyes 
but constellations only last for the night 
looking through diamonds that sparkle and shine 
and fade into the light 

you’re not the worst we’ve ever seen, 
just maybe as close as we’ve found to serene 
and believe me, I know where you’ve been. 

cursed with looks that kill, 
she found me undead 
but tales never fare like they do in her head: 
stories that bleed from the ink on the page in that book bound by her bed. 

when your heart skips a beat, 
it’s the secrets you keep 
that keep me from wondering what puts you to sleep. 
so bid me good night, 
an evening of rest, 
while you lay with privilege and hope for the best.

tell me, is this really your favourite way to sleep?
curled up and ashamed of the rivers that explode down your cheek?
if it feels alright, then take all night.
you know i’ll be the last to fall asleep.

and when the night man’s gone,
the sun won’t rise
if you’re not ready to open your eyes.
when nightmares pass, evenings don’t last
and when you wake up moaning, i won’t be surprised.

i felt your eyes bury me
somewhere deep beneath your sheets
in that place you kept the secret
that you cry in your sleep.
but if nobody’s around,
do you even make a sound?

through baited breaths of “hush, child. tears are for the weak”,
remember that it means a lot to me to see you sleep.
and when the sun comes up, your swollen head comes down,
and it’s a shame that i won’t be around.

i wish it wasn’t so black and white.
she called murder while i took your life
somewhere you’d never been before
because i thought you needed more

and do we ever find ourselves wrapped up in circumstance?
do the pretty ways of the world supersede our plans?
i rise and fall in arrogance but the way down isn’t far
if you know exactly what you are.

lucid living, tried and true ambition
pave the way for this decay.
just one more second and i’ll pray
for everything that gave me faith —
it’s not much longer to the end of the day.

and you’ve still got the words to talk.
seconds are first on a ticking clock.
watch me roll fevers as i walk the walk.
and i’m making up words in the first degree
with the weight of the world coming down on me.
they say the best things always come in threes
and that’s one better than me.

so what if i promote sin?

it’s just my form of “good”.

look down on the self-righteous

like i know that i should.

this is what they call me:

all the evil eye can see.

i can feel my skin give way as the knives make me a little bit wiser
cracks become canyons dying to be a little bit wider
and i’m trying to move that mountain inside her.

picture this - a dogeyed silhouette
basking in the secrecy
while six thousand sad stories fill the airwaves
good old-fashioned static lullabies singing,
“radio radio, sing me to sleep.
there ain’t a secret i can’t keep.”

but when i finally gain the grounds for the accused,
i’ll hear every appeal to reason you refused
so you could stay that ethereal muse
with a temper like a fuse.
broken bindings show me what you have to lose —
everything you’re not afraid to abuse.

and i’m singing songs like it’s the fall of Rome
about how i barely made it home
and what it is you really need
when i know it isn’t me
and much less an effigy.
take it for granted, and you’ll see
i can feel my body break when you so much as look at me.

she called murder on me
when i was dying in the company of three
how could i feel free?

she asked me what it’s like to take a life.
well, i’m right back where i started,
digging my own strife.

and i will never stick around.
i will only let you down.
but i’m sure that someday, some else will be inclined to
pick me up again
and know that means are more than ends.
in this hard place we call home
can we turn over the stone?
(we can pump our blood from stone.)

she damn well i was going blind
but she still rolled her eyes
knowing i was shaking inside.

never one to take my own advice
i wait until my oceans turn to ice
just because it feels right.


oh, it’s revelation in the first degree,
the weight of the world coming down on me.
confound yourself, i can’t believe
that she called murder on me.