The Parade of Concrete Giants

There's something calling you, pulling you to some sort of bittersweet swing town. You can feel it in the sweat pouring out of the traffic and the leaves brushing against your hand. I'm sorry your eyes are finally peeking out and gliding along the burnt out lights and their fallen brothers, a cymbal against broken virtue. This is a chance to discuss and extend your words into strings of nonsense and create definition out of your cardboard fragments. Hot glue and scissors and tape are your weapons, a utensil of your tongue. You're keeping yourself and everyone up way beyond their bedtime. Sorry but not sorry about the swollen lips you've left behind in your wake. Home is so far back, lost in the black and white bricks that make up that once bright fork in the road. This is what you don't know. This is what you find out once the mystery and the quiet has faded into something more than that. Help is another illusion that you've created for yourself, support defined by its very ectoplasm. The walls will come crashing down and you will be forced to decide for yourself. All for one moment, once and for all.

Yesterday I Don't Believe

All I remember
Are your grimy fingers
Gripping the fretboard
Telling me you were bored
With what was going on.

Those days were tender
As if I wondered
I was another door
My hinges ripped and torn
Well, what was going on?

I didn't know what I saw behind your eyes
What kind of hint of lilac you hid behind
Stone faced, dresses laced
This was the beginning of the end

I don't believe what you told me yesterday
I don't believe what you told me yesterday
When the streetlights fell damp on your skin
And my body filled the empty spaces
You were my breath and soul
Yesterday

Your howls, well fend for
Yourself. For once, can your
Mouth save the war
More scratches on the floor
What the hell is going on?
I don't believe
I don't believe
I don't believe
I don't believe

What you have to say
What you told me yesterday

Insensitive

Another day wasted
And I can't take it
And I hate it

What do you want me say?
What do you want me to rattle off?
All of these empty words add up to some brittle sentence
not worthy of the language I forged it from

Is that what you want?
Breathless gasps from the other end of the line?
Noise from the my throat of language trying to escape?
A haunting desire to keep the clothes on

What am I supposed to feel?
I am the shoelace around the powerline
Holding on to whatever weather slips through
Someday I will tear. I will tear

Thank you.

Tugboats pulling my heart by its strings into the harbor of heartbreak
As the waves crash through the intersection

Insensitive.
Guarded.
No.
Just ignorant.

Blinded by the experience of freedom.
Birthright.

Another day wasted.
And I hate it.