Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Here We Are

These dreams are just a daze, the past faded away.
These moments echo then erase, not even a trace
of those things we left behind.
The memories lose me, focus on new desires.
And yet, here we are, all the same.

I never wanted it to be this way,
the nightmares into which I have strayed.
I never thought I would venture this far
to become what I am.
And yet, here we are.

I close my eyes, I dream of you, the past we used to seek, in those days, so far behind me.
And I dream of how the nights would end, lying in your arms,
your skin pressed so softly against mine.
That casual glimpse, the moments we kissed, the dreams I will always miss.
And yet, here we are, once again.

Your eyes have changed, your voice so rough, the look of escape shallow beneath your veins.
The blood pulsates and I feel the echoes, and you slowly look back toward the floor.
And I see the same door we both walked through so long ago, so many years before.
And I wonder how we ever made those dreams within this shrouded room.
And yet, here we are.

And as he walks in, the walls grow dim,
the lights fade within the blackness of his blood.
And those lies pool on the floor
as he sees for once who I truly am.
And yet, here we are.

The bullets fly,
the scars no longer hide,
and I eagerly await
my turn to die.
For at last, here we are.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Daydream's Winter

So here's to the world
- without paper or pen -
I close my eyes and I start over again.
The dreams that chase me,
god they pull so hard.
And I can feel the aching
tearing apart my heart.
I never could see
the night through the day.
I never could dream
that maybe there was a better way.
These past memories
I've tried so hard to erase,
they pull and twist and turn,
and they seal my mortal fate.
I know it doesn't matter,
who's heart has bled,
or who's dreams are shattered
in these days ahead.
Screw your ideas
of what's right or wrong.
This is my fight,
and it was mine all along.
I never asked you to be here,
or to join this rampage.
I never expected this fear,
and the pain on this stage.
God do all our dreams
have to end like this?
Does the nightmare of morning
always have to exist?
Can the dreams of this darkness
just once refuse to fade,
and finally can our hatred
find a place to be laid?
We close our eyes in fear
of the future bled from the past.
And yet can you not see
that only those dreams were built to last?