Let’s spin a tale, that ever was true.
No lies, no disguise, just trust through and through.
We’ll tell a story, drink a twisted well
Of an awful burden, enough to go around.
Long ago, it was just yesterday
Like walking up stairs, top so far away
I found false love, which lay in wait
to make us its victims, entwine in hate.
To them went the spoils, a vintage so clear
Fermented in anguish, our agony, our fear.
We drank it too, though I did not know
that I would remain drunk and alone.
In a miasma of flesh, taken from me
a haze of bone, hidden from thee
a choking cloud for them just like rum
Burning our eyes, escaping the tongue.
In the beginning, it seemed just like ours,
music played sometimes, sometimes sound cowered
Shrank back from flames, the flame of our lives
our fearsome soul
reflections to rise.
We couldn’t breath, we couldn’t tell
gasping for air, that we were in hell.
A greeting then failed, but well we are known
to the demons who say, “this ground we own.”
Nothing but pain
passed from our lips
locked in a dream
craving your kiss.
Night after night
I remember this way
the devils creation’s
put on display.
Like dolls in a house
you play with for fun
but they play with you
while you should run.
They mimic your wife, they mimic your friend
rejected your flowers, they mimic the end.
A long relationship
that has run it’s course
They leave on the light
even though you’re divorced.
They left your side
most every night,
to sleep on the couch
their darkness to spite.
Excitement and thrill, it marks the beginning
of another love
who rose while you’re sleeping
injured a dove.
A casual attempt
punished each time
with a body of regret
no deceit
no lies.
Honeyed words misleading
in leaps and bounds
Serenades that jump
Overtures that pounce
A person who saw
life through a veil
fogged up the glass
from a place just like jail.
A lie where we stand
we live though we stay
we hold in our hands
we wont go away.
A vow only real
implied to begin
with this little child
(the world starts to spin)
We breath, breathed imagination
every step couldn’t help
but to create dimension
Our writing wrote, and left within
lofty characters made more than pen
For light must come from someplace bright
doubtless there’s no chance and might
draws strength from places great, not dim
but blaze with flame of righteousness.
We cannot help
but understand
just who we are
just who I am
We cannot help
but to live and to see
just who you are
you’re you, not me
It always helps
to look and to think
just what you are
just what you’ll do
And it doesn’t hurt
to draw the line
we know them
they think they know us too.
AndrewsNotebook 