“I am but the humble bumble bee flying free past the flowers behind the glass. Never to land nor nectar supple experience.” -M

The hassle of spun wheels over that which is paved. Clock rounds it lap as heavy weight is fueled along. Uncomfortable jostling with weary eyes that forlorn abrupt sleep, that is, by way of another melody,

“No one will ever love you once you become crazy.” -M

“Love like a star leaving a light in the void.” -M

“When you become less of a person, you stop looking for your other half and instead search for the greater portion of what you are not.” -M

Blackened heart beneath thus broken sky. Ends of unreached paths are but a ramshackle broom tied by a conscious sweeping the ash. Clouds colluding of a loveless sun on par to die. Haling the destruction

I’ve read somewhere ‘you cannot change what you refuse to confront’. While this statement may elicit cheers of approval as an absolute, it’s not entirely true. Something’s change without confrontation.

I can’t read your dreams from yesterday long ago but I write them in place like shriveled butterfly hearts of the lepidopterist. But then again as the beauty dies from what once was its flight of color,

“To be lost in another’s eyes is to find the place everyone searches for.” -M

“A book without a dedication is but a gravestone without epitaph.” -M

“Anything can be selfish with selfish intent.” -M

“An endless fight is the ultimate loss.” -M

What to us is a random occurrence, is often the terminus of events even before that of our birth. Whether it be the car that crashes into you because the driver was late. Or the random person who becomes

“Responsibility without choice is the essence of passive oppression.” -M

“Some will tear down the world. Others will watch it flood. Both die in the chaos.” -M

“Power is the only authority in chaos.” -M

(Chorus) Black out the skies of your emotions , Drowning in a dream sinking in the ocean.
 Flesh disguised as hell’s devotion, Your murdering my love in sadistic slow motion. -M

Carried up on wings spinning winds westward into a familiar sinking yellow burning star. Find us a love forever. Ferried by flight as the light of a smile turns to the night of loneliness. A kind of thus

To be less then nothing, strip of black duct tape is the mark of the least. To be everything, rip back the fuckt cape from whence embarked of its lease. To be between something, grip the crack stuck gaped

“We are not living life, we are slowly being consumed by it.
“ -M