immortal
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there is something about the way he sings
his lyrics are a mystery,
old like a redwood's age rings.
everyone knows his name
they worship the man, Hozier
everyone knows of his fame.
That pain more pleasurable
Than pleasure itself
Our story I'll keep immortal
Like a well kept fable
I know years from now I'll visit those places
Where our memories we once made
Because I am a writer
You will never die
My love, you'll last forever
Within each line you'll lie
I'll paint all of your features
With my unforgiving words
To me, your imperfections
i am a tortured dustball
sitting on the kitchen floor
polishing a bagel
with a veneer of peanut butter.
slim, competent,
crusty
and grumbling at Iggy the Fish -
On the floor with no pulse,
no time to grieve.
I saw him stiff and cold,
the one who had embraced me in warm arms
just that night.before.
Have you ever tried to write about the one you love?
Struggling to find the purest of words to fulfill
The way they make your heart soar like the wings of a dove.
Beating so fast cannot be healthy but cannot be still.
I'll sleep when I'm dead
when my corpse is cooling
my eyes are blank
and my hands barely curling
the red flush leaking
like the last dregs of an empty cup
laying as a doll
so white and clean
Abduct our minds.
Bend them in two.
Take our hearts,
And bruise them too.
Your dirty hands,
Gripped red soil,
Then you checked our pulse
With envious words,
…and as my pen dances,
across a page, so white and crisp,
she scribbles words,
she laughs,
she cries,
she teaches those who do not know
that in order to understand,
