These thoughts are haunting phrases
Of a mangled adoration of this puzzled peace.
Their binding foundations merge a strength
That is reverberated throughout missing pieces.
Held dear to the heart, they escalate to an oblivion
Then fall back together once more in an echo of their own.
Another day passes, gone,
All of these words and phrases,
Ringing hollow in a vacancy of our own.
We’re not two or equivalent to such,
No we are one, two human beings
Strung out in the world, lost,
With a distant purpose – we follow slowly…
As we take two steps forward,
We lunge a million back;
We’re searching the world, ourselves,
And this vast expanse for who we are.
We’re destined for solution,
Be it rough or shallow,
Our waking pools of tears shed hope,
That one day a seizure of the past
Will ignite our future in words once spoken.
I don’t know this face, this voice, or this need.
That clarity is gone, vacant and shallow…
…in this pool of long-forgotten simplicity.
This isn’t what I had in mind, when all was lost,
when all ceased to exist and the fire inside…
No torch worth burning burns an hour,
rather a lifetime with everlasting fuel…
…fueled by passions and the foundations of sin.
Most torches are long since passed,
in the past where they belong to rise…
…to rise up to the surface once again.
Ich bin allein hier ohne dich. Natürlich bin ich aufgeregt.
Du, mein Morgenstern, so weit entfernt sind.
Dieser Abstand, so weit und lang und leer,
mit Ozeanen zwischen uns und den Sternen
explodierenden Berge durch diese Räume.
Morgenstern sind so malerisch und einsam wir,
Wir müssen klettern unsere Berge,
und eine Verletzung unserer Grenzen zu spüren
dass warme Umarmung.
I’m alone here without you. Of course I’m upset.
You, my morning star, are so far away.
This distance, so far and long and empty,
with oceans between us and stars
exploding mountains through these spaces.
Morning star, so quaint and lonesome are we,
that we must climb our mountains,
and breach our shores to feel
that warm embrace.
What a life to live, oh, joy, we live today.
These feelings of sorrow.. oh, joy!
I too often am reluctant, I know you see.
Where’s the inclination to help?
wheres the fight, the promise, the need?
Oh, joy! It’s out of sight…
…out of mind.
Sometimes I feel anxiety
I won’t lie, it’s at your discretion.
I feel it grow and diminish
like our moods, from fun to irate.
That anxiety drives me
into a pool of despair from
knowing you’re out there
without me next to your side.
But through the jealousy
and the pride and the envy
I know you’re right in telling me
that it doesn’t matter at all –
I know where you belong
and you seem to stay there still.
That anxiety struggles for release,
purging back and forth in my skin
wanting nothing but recognition
for I deny it to keep me whole
and to keep you happy.
My anxiety is at your discretion,
whether you know it or not
as it is the metaphor for my hope
that you will stay next to my side,
and our fun will spread again,
and our irritation will fade away
with the anxiety in me.
It was a warm day, unlike any I’ve seen
I went about my path, constantly I
clicked my animator’s tween.
My madness was cured and I rejoiced,
my face lacked its anguish – perfect;
now all I needed was that voice.
Hours went by and seemed to pass
like sands breaking through
their eternal hourglass.
Time was made of vectors and blurs
I couldn’t be happier, myself,
now that I was hers.