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Sip on these tears with me my love.
Come, let us dine on our sorrows, we will never...
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She clung fiercely to her own
self-damaged skin...
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I remained sober for her eyes,
fire water never appealed to me...
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You held my tears in your hands,
and tipped my chin upward to meet your eyes...
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I went to the station where the rain was
pouring, turbulent, seven years old...
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You pack your bags, and leave.
You head for a land that is less chaotic...
-
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My soul has become parchment paper.
Frayed, around a silhouetted frame...
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If I were birds like those above our heads,
The ones that fly by fluttering their wings...
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This isn't a painting.
Don't prance around with...
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Don't act like
you've never been curious...
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I've always wonder - it has always been
a part of me, wondering that is. About...
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In my town - not a city like Rio Verde,
The Circus arrived with January's festival...