Really, do you care about Earth?
I am still trying to love you right.
So I’m going crazy? I guess, yes.
Some people hate their ideas; I’m a fighter.
Even when I wake to find them botched.
So much depends upon a small child laid in state beside the redeemed Villain.
Quick, take me down to Blackpool Promenade; Where the air is thick with nothing, really. And above your head lies God’s great grey sky. Stroll with Fish n Cips n lemonade, While the ocean roars and looks quite steely. And the kids on the rides scream as they fly. The funfair’s roaring, the rides are…
While the genius sleeps Something deep inside it creeps- Is it an idea? Hope? Criteria? No, no. It’s just the lonely.
You know what I really fucking hate?
I listen to the music Time’s playing, even when it is slow with Winter’s sadness…
I wish we could still talk- that you were you.
Words are beginning to lose their letters
Writers are beginning to lose their point.
Wrong place, write time. Because I’m not here, but I’m on the page. And your screen, and in your head. But if you touch me I’ll turn to smoke And dissipate while I love you dearly, But clearly I’m incoherent Back to black for me, But at least I can see well enough. I’m real…