published on
(After Math. Before Spelling. A love that could not be. The true story of two best friends, trapped in My Own Private Manitoba.)
Trying to sing a sunrise,
from out the letting of our bad blood,
but your silence speaks,my knees weak,
beneath the flow of the flood,
Honestly, can't you see,this is me,
trying to be what you want,
except i couldn't and can't,
not a promise or pant, could i haunt,
desolation darkens the door,
where i dress up in my death,
but that's life, and it's rife,with this strife,
the clock breaking with each breath,
and now the hands never meet,
so we'll stare at our feet,with interest,
and the numbers don't count,
up to any amount, i confess,
Wager me, i'll be wringing the words,
from my clotted throat,
Wager me, and the tracks that we marked,
bid a baleful bloat,
Wager me,
for i told the truth,
and you broke my mirror,
It must be all my fault,
if we don't appear,
is our reflection gone?
is that the path we're on?
out from the sinking streets,
of the quicksand concrete,
you know my scars still sing...
Apologies to fall from my lips,
are only tears in the rain,
in the muddle of this puddle,
I would catch your refection again,
but for the reality that my proximity,
imparts pain,
and the truth is that noose of abuse,
swinging loose in my brain,
Sorry is the name of the blame,
that bides a world without friends,
where confessions of love, are made of,
old shames and long lost loose ends,
And every poor Palindrome,
a once and future home to forsake,
until they're lost in the cost,
of destruction that they'll leave in their wake,
- Genre
- Quicksand Concrete