not yours but my own

dear,.. dearest... hello..,

my beauty, it has been six months since i last saw you. i wore a white dress in hopes that i would remind you of angels of some sort or even a sister wife, or white wolf but instead you found the sadness in my eyes to make me black, dark, hallow like a crow you said, like a beautiful sad crow. it did me no good, it didnt do me any justice to be this black. dark and hallow like a crow, like a beautiful sad crow.
i wanted angel eyes, i wanted the strength you found everyday when you got up and ready for work, because you were the hardest working man i have ever met in my life and if i could get up as you did than surely these dark hallow eyes would turn blue, as blue.. as blue as your eyes, as blue as the suit you wore on the day i met you.
i never wanted to leave your side, and six months ago i would've gone off with you if you had asked me to,
but now i find myself no longer a crow, no longer a dark black hallow baby crow, because now i didn't need you
now i didnt need anyone but my own damned self
because these eyes didn't need to be blue, as blue as your suit
these eyes needed to stay brown like a bear, brown like a big strong bear with sharp claws
but still loving enough to make you warm enough to make you love,
i want back all of the letters i ever wrote you, not because i want to take back the words
but i want to remember what it was like to feel so blue, as blue as the suit i met you in, as blue as the waters,
as dark blue as you, i love you .. today. tomorrow and always, especially now that you've stopped taking advantage of love

yours,
not yours but my own,
b.d.m

the lighthouse will bring you to shore

i wanted to lye beside you the day the volcano took its toll
mother earth revenge ... i was much like a cat though i longed all my life to be a lion.
a lion not a lioness because a lioness would entail that i would worship you even when you spat on the floor
i'd much rather be the king, the king of your sky and your earth .
day and night i crawled beside you, much like a cat, less like a lion
i never longed to belong to anyone, except everytime i found a man singing bob dylan i nearly sold all my belongs to move off with him... not greatest hits dylan either..
i'm talking bootleg series, all of them, i'm talking mama you've been on my mind 1964 halloween concert
the witches made their warm milk, and i sat at the bar with satan, a gin and tonic in hand
i hope that you get better, because if you get better, than i sure as hell will stop trying to throw myself onto the train tracks

The truth is our ancestors have lived this way for centeries
And look where its got them
Dead and forgotten
Except those select. Few that were mad enough to not give a shit whether or not their spirit would live forever
There's a lady on the red line claiming she's got enough money to blow up the train and if we don't give her ours she may just stab the conductor for all of your young pretty eyes to see
I don't believe ... She's bluffing but I don't call it cause I haven't any money to give her anyway so if the future of this train depends on me then were all fucked and maybe shed let us phone home and say our I love yous

I won't worry too much about you ...unless you want me to that is

5987

killer be killed

i've been shaking for hours now, hours upon hours
they say your planes wont be able to fly for a bit
their motors have gone to shit and to be quite honest i was begging for your empty bones
today i've written you words that you once wrote me, the same ones to be quite frank but they were the only ones to describe the sudden need to be around you. i feel like a poor gentle rabbit but the truth is i'm more like a baby white tiger.
we've met here before, we crawled on these very floors even tipped over the piano knocking out the keys
you never learned to play the damn thing anyway and the stress was really starting to take its toll on you.
i fear your empty heart gentle man.. the earth is yours, the ground is mine, i will take you all over town, only in hopes that your brother's ghost will stop haunting.

when you've lost your colour, and the ships don't seem to come to shore i will call on the headless horseman to follow you home
you don't remind me of wednesdays or saturdays for that matter, but you do make me feel nostalgic of what it feels like to walk in a cold storm
the people march to your drum, like followers of a cult gathering, they drink the punch even, with so much pride but you don't even take notice of all of those bending backwards
jonathan the river styx is meant to be crossed, it is difficult at first i am sure but the ones who cross it become worthy of these hands, healer hands they call it.
i don't want to cause the snow storm, but sometimes you're worthy of all the natural disasters in the world.

yours truly,
your crippled friend,
your deep sea diver,
your rebel without one cause,
amalia

march 2

don't write anything you'll regret,
because tomorrow you will take back all of those "I love you's, can't live without you's, hate your guts, and god I WISH YOU WERE DEADS".

i swear it, you will take them all back every single one of them, like a coward, like a baby with its head cut off.

xo.

your sweetheart

"stop taking me for granted," she pleaded. He took the keys out of his pocket and started to count them, one... two... three....
a key for every second, a key for every woman he had ever given his hands to. "you make it easy.. you let me take you for granted", he responded. Of course that is what he would say, that is the same line he used on the very same type of women he would allow in and out of his life for seconds at a time. He rotated them like a rotisserie chicken, round, and round and round. He was right, there was a reason these women were all the same. He choose them that way, weak, dependent, and all of them worshiped the very ground he would spit on. "well not anymore", she said sternly almost as though she believed herself the second the words came out of her mouth. Today when he calls she doesn't answer but she paces her yard back and forth thinking of reasons to return his call. "I just want to make sure you're doing fine", she thought. "No that is trite", she said to herself. Everything is trite pretending to be insanely happy, pretending she no longer loved him and forcing her mouth to say "I don't want you anymore, but hope you're doing mighty well", she thought. All of these things were not true and she was never known to be a liar, at least not for anything as significant as love. Instead of returning his call she listened to the message he left trying to see if there was weakness in his voice, he sounded happy, but trying to flaunt his happiness to her something she felt was the darkest sin of all. Why flaunt your happiness to the unhappy, that's pure evil, she thought. "Oh but my sweet ... happiness is contagious".