The bright dull of primitive walkways
The obvious truth to every word muttered
You\'d almost think that they want you to believe in the way they behave
As if it is royal to feel fluttered
By closing and pushing out blank stares.
Raw words inching to be released
Through your finger tips, to be fair.
Dirt clung to the bottom of your shoe
Repeating to yourself \" If they knew\"
\"If they knew\" \"If they knew\"
\"If they knew\"
Knew what? My darling, please, do tell.
Unknown like nothing before, a screech of
\"Allow your secrets to fly out of the well.\"
Do you obey?
Do you know that I am completely bored and I love the sound of my pen scratching
Off into space. So I allow my mind to wander?
To hop around and around and around till it loses its meaning.
The truth just presented to you
Do you run?
To what, but the numb blue?
To the innermost part of your mind
I don\'t know where this is going anymore
Did Emily Dickinson know?
Or is my breathe just chaos?
Weaving in and out of the beautiful language of Gibberish
Sanity clutched in my hand and new, silly characteristics of the world in my mouth.
Patterns of present to past are no longer visible
Just an ache in my speech
Ink swirling in my lungs
I try to breathe in the stars
Then maybe you\'d see the galaxies
In my eyes
Through my eyes
Perfect
Truly a useless word
We must stay charmed and childish and a mess like this truce, my darling