Spin [s/a]
Title: Spin
Author: infinityuphigh
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This is as real as my parents love for Ringo. Which. ...is not...all that real ;__;
A/N: To be honest, I'm not at all sure what I was trying to go for in terms of style with this one.
Spin, spin, spin,
John was spinning in circles.
Pull, pull, pull,
Paul was pulling him apart.
"It's just me, John," Paul said.
Hadn't John said that before? Or was that from the future,
A present to come?
John wasn't wearing his glasses, so he figured the latter.
Johnny was the boy who didn't know how to cry,
Johnny was the boy that Paul wanted to untie.
Pull, pull, pull,
John was begging for strength.
It was a bit like a game of tug-o-war;
Except the force trying to keep John composed was more than less than as strong
as Paul was.
Spin, spin, spin,
unraveling.
"You're too tightly wound," John didn't deserve the facade.
Pull, pull, pull on the loose thread.
"Come undone."
Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy,
John was spinning, still spinning.
Colors blurred together,
Paul was smiling against his lips.
Pressing, pressing, pressing,
until John was a mess on the floor.
"Lose control."
John was spinning, twirling. His twisted ladders,
his twisted mind,
unfurling.
"Untie your mind."
"Float away."
"Come undone."
"It's only me."
Johnny was the boy with the fear in his eyes
Johnny was the boy who was coming untied.
Paul was the boy who just wanted to see
what was behind the mask,
what John had pretended to be.
Pull, pull, pull,
It all started with one loose thread.
A single faulty word said.
And with tears stinging in his eyes, John listened to Paul.
He fell to the ground and he spilled it all.
He lay in knots on the floor, tangled knots on the floor;
he was unraveled.
In chaos.
In tears.
In truth.
In love.
"It's just me," whispers, from the past, now,
John's come back.
Looking, observing, with a smile on his face.
He barely remembers the ghost on the floor,
the ghost of the man he was before.
And there was the ghost of Paul, tripping over the strings,
knotted, sobbing the craziest of things.
Bent over his muse, this broken boy,
and all John remembered he did was
Spin.
Author: infinityuphigh
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: This is as real as my parents love for Ringo. Which. ...is not...all that real ;__;
A/N: To be honest, I'm not at all sure what I was trying to go for in terms of style with this one.
Spin, spin, spin,
John was spinning in circles.
Pull, pull, pull,
Paul was pulling him apart.
"It's just me, John," Paul said.
Hadn't John said that before? Or was that from the future,
A present to come?
John wasn't wearing his glasses, so he figured the latter.
Johnny was the boy who didn't know how to cry,
Johnny was the boy that Paul wanted to untie.
Pull, pull, pull,
John was begging for strength.
It was a bit like a game of tug-o-war;
Except the force trying to keep John composed was more than less than as strong
as Paul was.
Spin, spin, spin,
unraveling.
"You're too tightly wound," John didn't deserve the facade.
Pull, pull, pull on the loose thread.
"Come undone."
Dizzy, dizzy, dizzy,
John was spinning, still spinning.
Colors blurred together,
Paul was smiling against his lips.
Pressing, pressing, pressing,
until John was a mess on the floor.
"Lose control."
John was spinning, twirling. His twisted ladders,
his twisted mind,
unfurling.
"Untie your mind."
"Float away."
"Come undone."
"It's only me."
Johnny was the boy with the fear in his eyes
Johnny was the boy who was coming untied.
Paul was the boy who just wanted to see
what was behind the mask,
what John had pretended to be.
Pull, pull, pull,
It all started with one loose thread.
A single faulty word said.
And with tears stinging in his eyes, John listened to Paul.
He fell to the ground and he spilled it all.
He lay in knots on the floor, tangled knots on the floor;
he was unraveled.
In chaos.
In tears.
In truth.
In love.
"It's just me," whispers, from the past, now,
John's come back.
Looking, observing, with a smile on his face.
He barely remembers the ghost on the floor,
the ghost of the man he was before.
And there was the ghost of Paul, tripping over the strings,
knotted, sobbing the craziest of things.
Bent over his muse, this broken boy,
and all John remembered he did was
Spin.