the cult classic mood of sorrow lingers on your tongue, slipping a bit more with every masked word that passes through your teeth. you're one heart-beat from a break down, and we're all taking shelter in our apathy.

make a noose.
head to the train bridge.
and watch the sun set at noon.

the perfect family vacation.

if i could build a bridge over anything,
it would be over that which may come between us.

somewhere between march and may,
i got lost in your arms.

i've yet to find my way back again,
but i don't think that i mind.

maybe the whole idea of opening pandora's box was just a metaphor for being "open-hearted" and honest.

this is my resignation.

i am continually awe struck by the way you can take all of my hopes, and dreams, and throw them to the ground. You then proceed to walk over them, like a red carpet made just for your feet as you exit.

there is no place for us in heaven.

i'd like to thank your hollow heart
for letting my "i love you"'s echo.

we can sink below the horizon
and drown in the soils tides,
our bloodied hands will bloom
into something beautiful.