I see the traces of your fingertips on the other side of the glass,
Only vapors of where you’ve been,
A hint carried on the breeze.
Plunge your head into the water,
Let the sleepily seeds take root
They can feed the lost woods as it grows into the Minotaur’s home.
Olympus is empty now,
The no loitering signs drove everyone away.
I wanted to be dug up and dusted off
Only your hands can free you from your grave
Shake the headstone loose,
Crawl out with nothing to see.
The taste of hemlock still better on the tongue;
‘You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain’,
The self fulling prophecy.
I build fantasies around false apparitions,
Twist everything until it fits my narrative.
The honest broker left with the tide
Now only the bottom dwellers remain.
Is the mulberry bush all that left,
Are you running because I’m chasing
Am I chasing because you are running.
All I want is is to get lost in your eyes
As I dog ear the pages of your soul.
Murder yourself on the altar of honesty
With the ferocity to stir even the sleeping field mouse.
Talk until even the wall turns it back.
The vacuum won't kill you
It just takes away your breath,
You’ll gasp but death will just walk past and smile
While he lights another cigarette.
I try to burn the castles in the clouds,
But they only grow back at the mere mention of your name.
Redemption is the feast of fools,
A tale told by an idiot,
The promise that only comes in disguise to speak with everyone but you.
