ejisonfire

August 22 2007, good bye to you...don't forget about us when you reach the other life.

rain trickles down in rhythm,
like the monophonic sound of
a music box that played on her radio.
this place has grayed down,
and the only colour that's left
here is about to disappear.
a bright red flower,
that could be from a lover or a mother,
that keeps her lost in memory.
its petals fall,
swallowed by the water that runs
freely on the floor.
i can hear her melody,
i can feel the confusion in its progression
but there's relief on the high notes,
and a bit of grief as it ends.
she whispers "sayonara" to herself,
that could be to a lover or a mother,
who gave her fields and fields of roses,
but she only took one...

the window is staying still this time,
no begging or beckoning for me
to go outside.
the rain feels too good to just watch
with my eyes,
but i'm stuck in a moment where
i just feel so at home.
i could sleep with the sound of keys,
being played on the piano,
a serenade to myself.
tonight the world seems so bright,
cause i'm so independantly
trapped in my own skin.
i'm quite sure that the mirror is
so tired of hearing "i love you's"
and "you're not as bad as they say",
cause i feel like i've embraced everyone,
felt their body warmth
.. and their cold hearts.
now i'm assuming that the world is made
from the same woman,
that practiced self denial and
changed her mind all the time.
i thought she drove me crazy,
but i can live with her just fine.

he's parading his tommy gun,
with a cigarette tucked in his lips.
"there aint nothing here now sweetheart,
there's bullets, thousands.
there's bombs, hundreds.
i've got a body count carved on my palm,
and i'm riding high to mexico"

johnny's still in black in white you see
but the screens just dying to bleed red,
with all the blood,
with all the paint.

he's running up mountains,
he's walking across seas,
for power, .. for power.
good habits die young,
he's named the bullet (greed),
and fired it in the sky.
now it rains, not from clouds,
but from their brown eyes, that's seen it all
and lost it.

johnny spills the wine,
and they drink it off the ground.
theyre so thirsty, so damned thirsty
to be part of johnny's posse,
because its the side that will always win.

it will hail as it withers,
one last graceful display before it dies.
petal-like bullets will be fired into the air,
like a salute to whats been buried.
it will be bright... the brightest,
i will light it like a sun that will only
shine until its time.
when the ashes fall,
i will throw it as high as the sky
then under it, i will dance,
a fast dance, a happy dance,
in time with it falling,
i want to feel it through my hair
and fingers, i want to breathe it in
and always remember its scent.
i want to taste all of it,
and feel it running through my veins
for one last time.
i will shout it to the wind,
that this is us my dear!! this is us!
it's going to be beautiful
until we're no more.

trapped in the comfort of dull walls that aren't
as blue or black as the morning night skies.
it's been said and seen that mothers do cry
when dark smoke (darker than those leaves devoured
by the fire) threatens something she has carried inside.
there's roots that grow from bloodlines connected
to our hearts that weaken the soul,
because when one dies we crumble like
wood boats in storms.
is it because we care? or cause we regret times
we weren't so concerned,
about them at all.

yes, we are weak but that makes us strong,
we'll fight for the wounded because they'll
wound hearts if we don't,
it hurts like sunrise which burns
skin if you can't see yourself in the mirror at all.
there's no welcome for scythes in this home,
don't blur the pictures that's been taken, framed,
and kept. (i don't want to cry from them)

eyes so wide they can see the far mountainous waves,
but they might as well be closed cause i'm not watching,
it's a form of escape that helps stop the bleeding and
tears gracing this cold concreted shell
i call my face.

so this is love..

i'm walking in my boyhood clothes,
from when i believed my dreams,
when i wasn't scared to die.
but i haven't seen him since
he went away.

what's with the turbulence?
why can't i not give a fuck,
i'm tired so let me sleep.

they're dying to live,
but it's hard in bodybags,
shot by the mind controlled,
and the play alongs,
or blown in their sleep.

throwing flowers for the ones who
drowned,
even if it still smells like flesh,
cause they burnt them to the clouds.

giving shelter because it rained,
it rained so much,
so many got sent away,
with just pictures in their heads.
when she made love to him,
when he got the job,
when he built the house,
when she had the girl.

so i'm insignificant,
but i'm brave enough to live,
through all the heart decay
and the passive tears,
we do it for the memories.

i'll walk naked and alone,
because i'm not afraid to look
at the morning sky.
who's to say were only born to die.

a spiral stairway,
with ends splitting over time.
man, it's a ghost town down there,
Hope's gone, but who'll go looking for her?
she's troublesome, knee deep in mud,
but she'll come knockin' just
like her mumma said,
"it depends on the road you're on son,
when you end up head on with a wolf,
then you'll get bitten, cracked bones and
severed limbs,
that's when your heart goes.

but if you ever find Hope then
she'll guide you, one-legged/armed or not.
her dirty footsteps can't grab you,
and they end before another fork,
but still she'll get you runningwalkingorcrawling."

we all have our demons to argue,
but we're the ones to make them from
experience or lack of it.
the stairway seems so long,
with ends linked to another.
my heart comes and goes everytime i'm climbing,
but i don't wanna die here,
i don't want to do nothing.

he needs you like oxygen,
but you're not breathing.
every kiss left a prayer,
with his voice reverberating
inside white walls.
the answers will come,
but he's not waiting.
so many long nights, as if
morning never came,
'cause you're never waking up.
but i know you could hear,
every story you already knew.

"remember the gardens i'd chase you through,
it bloomed with yellow and it smelt of spring.
displays of white from graceful wings circled
over our heads,
as we danced with their shadows.
everytime the darkness fell,
you'd lose your steps and stay with the fireflies
'cause they were your only light,
but i always found you.

oh my god, come look at the stars!
its marvelous! stagnant but they
don't stop moving in your eyes.
lets make paper airplanes
and fly them across the air waves,
so they know, we know theyre watching us."

he knows you're with the master now,
as the sound of the flat line rings loudly
like a song with a missing lyric that includes
your name.
do the skies really open?
'cause hes flying planes to guide your flight,
he knows you're hopeless in the dark.