a placeholder II

good luck, dovey.

hello

it seems like ages since we last locked eyes,
like months or years or more.
but i guess that's how it goes, you know,
and it doesn't really make me mad.

i've read a thousand books of lore
since the day i saw you go,
and now you're back i'm sort of sad,
because you wouldn't say hello.

while i wait

what does one do
when it can't be returned?
when the cymbals crash and the fires burn,
there's a hushed little scream
that is boiling up fast,
the feeling is over but the emotion lasts...
and it can't be returned,
it can't be returned.

on the varying temperatures of life and love

what's the forecast, weatherman?
will you tell of storms and rain and hail and snow?
will you give me the news on how the wind blows?
i've been waiting so long just to see how it goes,
weatherman, weatherman, let me know.

and though i'm standing still,
i don't know if i've been blown off course,
i don't know whether your can feel my remorse,
with no rhyme, no reason, there's no source,
weatherman, weatherman, it's a matter of force.

why am i always wrong, weatherman?
where is the road to friends and smiles and love and life?
where is the counter to the hardhearted knife?
i've been trying so hard just to end this strife,
that i almost missed the song-

"weatherman, weatherman, prove me wrong."

if i didn't feel so removed

i love you all and i love you too
only i don't know if i love you true,
because you talk to me as if i'm the second choice
or maybe you just need to hear a voice
but i love you regardless...
i'll go on and on.

a placeholder

goodnight, my someone, i hope you are loved.

i will never write

I played. I played when you told me to stop, and I played because you told me to stop. The keys were my salvation and your damnation, and for that I love them all the more. I will continue to play out your heart and into mine, like some infernal leech that just won’t go away. Imagine that, my source – out of your very body you bore your undoing. I will play on in the darkness and in the light, and I will love it as the creatures love the night. I will make music that hurts your head, and I will be happy in the end. I’m your own little changeling, meant to kill, your own precious baby, the source of your will. And I’m the one that will kill you, if words can kill, because I hate you, and I always will.