Little dove within my grasp,
I feel your heart a’ beating,
Thrums against my fingertips –
Quickening, quickening.

Color of a winter sky,
Feather of the softest down,
I stroke you gently –
Calming, calming.

Eyes as big as marbles,
Shine so slick and sable,
Widen, bright and curious at me –
Blinking, blinking.

I cannot know your name,
Or from whence you’ve come,
But in my hands you coo –
Softly, softly.

Sing sweetly to me little dove,
For in your song I hear a word,
A secret between you and me –
Beckoning, beckoning.

He loves her & her & her & her…the never ending neck of heartstrings all attached to one guitar. And every time he tunes it, their toes tingle and their necks hurt. We all crane for the Rockstar's attention, and he sees only blurred faces and imperfect tones. But her neck is longer than theirs and her tone more perfect in distortion, no hues of grey for her. No inbetween for exists for the vacant eyed girl. In the crowd, she stands stalk still, wrapped in sterile white. She never moves – he wants to move her. She looks away. He plays for her – he plays them all for her. But she is lost in the stars – a music he can't hear. Hope kills. And the dead child becomes his muse, carried in the crook of her arm - she nurses the babe, unashamed. She knows no shame. He knows only remorse.

They call me Russian Roulette

Cause I always win the bet




Said if I wanted a little fun

I should shine you like a pistol gun




Glistening, metallic steel

Sliding through my fingers, I like the feel



And I know I need you like a blow to the head

But without you, I'd be better off dead




And yes, I know, I'm just another game to you

But my blood is hot, don't know what to do




And it's my turn, gotta load the chamber

Bullets are cold, but I thrive on danger




Got my finger on your trigger

And you're callin' my name

Got my finger on your trigger

And you're callin' my name




You're sayin' 1,2,3

And a-bang, bang, bang




And red blood splatters the walls

As the skull shatters and the body falls



You made me hot, now you're makin' me cold

I'm not young, but I won't die old




And I know now you're more than a pistol gun

I know now you're not just deadly fun




'Cause it's not a game bein' in love with you

It's a death sentence, the moment you're bullet flew.

Pipe curled within my fingers

And pressed against my lips -

Surrounded by a cloud of smoke,

I inhale, self-induced suffocation,

And yet, I breathe easier for it.




You have made my thoughts heavy,

And my chest aches with it.

I cannot breathe for the thought of you.

Smothered by own fear.

I gasp inward -




Sucking roughly at the glass

My eyes half shut,

Something catches in my throat

I choke-

Nothing left but ashes, now,

Tears hesitate, caught,

In a mind thoroughly blitzed-

Soothed into silence




I curl into myself like smoke

Into a ball between my sheets -

And I fall, hard,

Into a stupor induced sleep -

Where my dreams are vapid

And my hopes are destroyed,

But somehow, blessedly,

I just don't care anymore.

Keep me high
Keep me flying
Soaring on -
Undercurrents of corruption
Fixed in flight
For but a moment

To sooth the soul
The secret stagnation
Inside…
Where the beat is free
To stop when it pleases
I die in increments
Caused by a broken clock
That hangs on my right breast
Composed of cracked chambers
And a tick that pulses to its own pain
No longer a reliable time piece

But for the moment
I know what the time is
Freedom
Within the folds
Of temporal temptations
Which lift me up and up
And up, I rise
Feeling for once
Outside and high