thorns so sharp
and beautiful like your love
unattainable to the touch
dry and dead like promises made
in a far off night
that was made in a bottle

thorns so sharp
and beautiful like your love
unattainable to the touch
dry and dead like promises made
in a far off night
that was made in a bottle
storm you are so black
i am so empty
storm you are powerful
i curled up quiet
storm if i could touch your electricity
and send my atoms to rest
i don’t need a soul
you as you have shown me that
love i divorce you
terno como anjos bebês distantes como o sorriso de um mendigo
light vaporizes dust shower
the gold in your eyes
the groans of our lives
spoken in the quiet of the morning
we sit across from our faces
silent in broken music from our hearts
but we know
we know
in the honey suckle trees
our kisses and screams
are held by perfumed tendrils
by spider webs keepers of hollow seed husks
and an old shredded classified page flapping in the hot LA wind
distant smiling eyes
what sad secrets must they hide
i wish they’d me
the network of your arms
strong like a cedar tree
fingers from both of our hands
connecting transporting us
to those sinfully delicious places
our animal scents my sweet flavors
pony express urgently
via dendrite and soma
speeding messages between our hearts
mine located where a heart should be
yours more toward your mid center
those songs sweet piano notes the ones sung by Adele hurt the most as they remind me of what dad did to mom
those words from boisterous guys showing off on bended knee their devotion perfection and digits of currency in worship of me will someday soon turn lethal
those men with delusions of being the righteous new species from Adam came and it won’t change that they are internally afraid of what their daddy did to their momma
from time unknown we flow and go turning around in circles a pull a push in darkness beams and the light sometimes is not that clear
even tears give up before our heart when we slip into children playing dress up me mommy’s shoes you daddy’s boots the familiarity of violence
time does not heal no matter how much it says in the public service announcement the warning signs the stacking cans of fire water rage combustion on music notes the peaceful hoax of love everlasting