A Betrayal Of Ideas

Every spoken sentence is a betrayal of ideas. The voice falters and the words are lost. The true meaning cannot be regained.

If only for a second you could rewind time but the value is worthless. Whatever intimacy you craved for feels like a rotten joke. It's time to move on.

All you created is built on dust and sand. Like a monument that's fallen down. You pick up the pieces that escape through your fingers.

Every spoken sentence is a betrayal of ideas. The voice falters and the words are lost. The true meaning cannot be regained.

Why love? Why hate? Why lie? Why cheat? Why deceive? Why do anything that gets you ahead of the leading pack? In the end, you'll end up like them.

Statement For Lovers

A statement for lovers require two mutually selfish people to share in their feelings for each other. You rub my back and I rub yours. Maybe we could get a little rendez-vous working if the hours are right. I put my time in and you put yours. It's got a nice little ring to it at the end of the metaphorical day when we as lovers take out our masochism on each other and say 4 words that sure as hell will be regretted at a later date. Unless the financial implications are a deal sweetener then there's nothing more to it. In a manner of speaking the whole deal started from day one and by year 5 the ring was just the metaphorical icing on the cake which indeed was shown later after you had decided to get hitched.

End statement.

All I Ask

It's hard to decide. I feel like I should protect. But I've got nothing. So what's their to protect? I'm just icy to everything around me. I know there's nothing out there. And every little thing just washes up on the shore. So leave me here with my belongings. Whatever they are.

But what about you? That's all I ask.

Always Turn The Lights Out

She always turns the lights out when I'm going home. Asleep to dream of another day and into the light I breathe again. There's no talk as our language is not advanced. Secrets bring arrivals and one thought brings a thousand photographs flooding through the mind. I never know what's going to happen next. I await what follows next.........

Instantly forgettable, this affection is almost regrettable were it not for the hope of holding something more than a paper bag. My mind is elsewhere and she's a calming influence. There's talk but then there's the silent understanding that if we reach beyond the limits we can always go back down and start again because it's nothing that we wouldn't want.

She always turns the lights out when I'm home. Asleep to dream of another day and thinking of the silent stars that are screaming underneath the sonar world. Radiate what's hers and take apart what is mine. The indifference is nothing to be afraid of it happens all the time. Hanging on the coat-tails for what really isn't there. But if I'm inside the secret smokescreen. I'll be standing in your doorway when the night is ours.

And the curtains close, the lights are out. The cinema is put to rest. I go asleep to dream of some other kind of day, some other way to escape but you know that it's not easy. One thought brings a thousand pictures flooding through the mind. Your only footsteps echo on the floor of my mind. The only escape route's been blocked and no lack of heart can make me turn the key. You just have to ask.........

Doomed

Every laneway into the open heart breathes fire for dragons. We speak but do not feel a thing. Numb to the open sore that we set aside for the short sharp shock to start again. I am not here but sufficiently so as to bring myself down to this level. After a while repetition gets annoying and in the end I can't remember nor speak for myself. I talk of love or hate but feel neither these days. The last time I did was over four years ago. I don't think it's healed and I could never begin.....that's why when I fall for you, I know I could be doomed.

I fled for years, I fled from feelings, to see what cold observations I could make of life. But life is a word that has lost it's meaning. And every person's empty beliefs are a thing of pure comedy. If my heart is black.....is it time to change tack? I lose the concentration and I yearn to sleep again. Into the eyes that burn like a fire. Toasted and set aside. I'm almost in heaven and hell from a perception of Catholicism that knows only one thing: perpetuating myths so that they infatuate the lymphs. The thrill of old fashioned heresy has long since gone but it always lingers. So long as you have a spokesman in power.

It's impending or is it looming. Depending on whom? Doom casts a shadow at the roll of a dice and all the old operatic words, in mid 20th Century talk. We walk through the past of an unsatisfied eye. It could be you drawing on the forest fires. Burning all the trees to ash. I don't think it's healed and I could never begin......that's why when I fall for you, I know I could be doomed.

At night the forest plays sweet music. So discreet to stay inside. Insidious, because every word you speak has got inside my skin. We are no longer of our own bodies. Love is for zombies and vampires and like all those old myths, I am with you again. I am no more.

Circling Through The Fields

Circling through the fields. Every word burnt through.
Circling through the fields. You begin to wonder what happens again. I fell for the albatross that's hanging round my neck. The noose is wrapped so as to hold me together. You don't know how but love's got a hold of your heart, taking your soul apart. Cuts like a knife and it's spoken like every cliché.
Circling through the fields. I am your every cliché. But you have to dig me out of this muddy field. These twisted arms will never leave. Do you want me to hang on your every word? In limbo, the Spartan lungs will breathe again. For you it might seem ridiculous, but then you'd never reasoned why.
Circling through the fields. Every word burnt through. If the world is a blaze of your sunken blast.....then we're all here to see you become the star. In private worlds we meet again. We aim for intimacy but fail miserably.
It's just another sense of time drifting by and in that we lose ourselves. Are we aiming for love or just another sense of conciousness. There's no feeling but in the same sentence you pump fresh blood into everything. Is this the end or the frightened footsteps of change? We'll never know unless we continue........

Culture shock in the western world. We're forward in going backwards. We believe in progress without actually achieving it. We are the new state with all the flags being moved around. We don't know what we stand for anymore. Our politics are easily confused. Identity? What identity - there's no such thing!

Follow The Honey Trail

It's just the bitterness that gets to me. After everything that happens it still makes no sense. You take me for a fool, how am I supposed to feel? Show no heart. Treat everything as a manipulative game. Now this is fun if I get what I want. Now this is fun if you give things to me. Make you bend down on your knees and grovel for my love.

You want me to follow the honey trail to see if you're happy with your selection. All that's given back is lies. I know you'll be disappointed, everyone you've ever gone out with is a weirdo so what does that make you?