To the man who saw me
Happy when no one was looking;
For smiling, applauding
My joy for the right tune,
Persephone as a dark and off-putting goddess who worries her mother by hanging out with satyrs and making...
The sun shone from
behind frozen skies
speaking as old photographs
which serve to trigger
memories we said were
Living a plain jane lifestyle.
Years spent staring
up at her sister and thinking
she was a peasant staring
at a princess.
She tried to hide...
There’s a bloated corpse at the foot of my bed,
It is the very corpse of Will,
It sits there rotting, with dead dark eyes,
Staring at me wherever I lie.
And where I lie is not far off,
For Will’s dead you see,
For every action there is no drive,
No reason for the decisions to which I arrive.
I’m decomposing, with rigor mortis setting in,
I’m not that far behind Will, you see,
I’d wish I could get my Will back,
Before I too am a corpse, with eyes so black.
But Will must feed off of drive,
And mine starved to death.
With flame and spark simply gone,
What can one do with every day drawn?