Air That We Once Breathed
And in the mean time, a shadow, a wave over paper. Light burns away. Hours seemed to be days in the eyes of those still drawing. Darkness in, grows on, sight. I won’t die howling, we’re better off this way. So leave me on the hunt, with spring born from our lungs, with the air that we once breathed.
Skyscraper
There’s a sea between us, flowing with love’s remorse. There’s a bridge between us, built over what we lost. Tied from end to end, from tip to tip, from a place in each of us, that stretches and reaches out. The first few stones splashed by our horrid ways, hoped and prayed for since birth. The waves are pain as we realized what our lives were worth. Our bones grow weak, an island sinking down, but our bridge remains. Our thoughts and hopes, what we wish we could have been, they are the rocks, that keep it alive, and keep me connected to you. You only liked on paper, skyscraper. I’m the one in dire need of a wounded co-conspirer and you’re my tyrant.
Chaplin Speaks
Earth gives us our safes to lay, though stillness seems a creeping grave. Under terror, stay crouching down, be still at once, these rising men. We had it made, because we were the ones that passersby thanked in prayer and people of power relied on our wings. A country, saddled, rides. It was on our backs, this weight is what guides the guardians of war. Run for your lives. Sharp and straight paths we decide. Fear’s the wind that pushes on and only feet that fly come home. What have we become? Animals with guns, a darkness that grows at the sight of others’ bones. Take comfort in this moment, oh, my warrior.
The Elephant
You could take this ocean home if they weren’t so uptight. You could be the only one to be their true idol mind. Am I right? Do we take away what’s inside? Do we burn through our lives on that same fine line? Because I’m tied, but the post is in my mind. It’s the wrong line of sight that ends up tying us down. I feel like the only one standing ashore, looking out and seeing cloud. Because I’m tied, but the post is in my mind. If I fight, I could break it just in time. And I could really use a break from you.
Alma
Wooden walls, a barn, seeded up in rows. Foxes’ voices coming from the roost. What frightens you? What scares you? What feeble thoughts grow and mold in your mind, changing the steps you take, as your feet just gladly follow your eyes? Everyday, it’s the same. A rope that could save a broken climb up from peril, ends up under his chin. He sleeps best, while doors left ajar, in secret hopes, someone reaches, go. Pages found at first beneath a broken climber’s floated feet, and now engraved in stone above. Opened, turning, I learned of everyday.
I’ve been on my own, taking it all in time, wondering where the light will come from. And all this holding back, draws me up inside, dried from overuse, a well, my worry. There’s nothing quite as bad, as waking up everyday, seeing how the world goes on without you. I just need someone, I could be the walking stick, you can choose the route, just take me along. I’ve been on my own, fighting the waves at sea, I hopelessly shoot at an ever-changing foe, everyday.
To Sea in a Sieve
Apart, we don’t want start a fire, we don’t want to be ignored, we don’t want to start a war. Windows see themselves as doors, I’ll take my own, gun, home. How? A window’s what you want now, leave the open door you’ve found, stay to be a part, somehow. I’ll take my own, son, home.
