I hope my hair drips poison from the tips and it
Runs all the way down my skin, and the thirsty ground
Opens and rips so rotten roses can
Take root, as your words, just like straight arrows,
Shoot and hit the heart even when your aim fails

When we loosen our grip what else
Slips? Do we become riddled with
Disease? Are memories destined to
Fade? Will we turn to recycled names?

Haylofts hold the hollow laughter of
Failing happy thoughts, trailing on
Bent and broken railings
Unfit to defy gravity,
Unable to reach the sought

And when time's up, we
Race away from the finish line and
Find new paths to travel where
Split-second decisions begin to
Unravel the irony of the ever-
Changing constant I call destiny

So the world continues its spin-
Turns on its angle, crooked as our intentions
Often tend to be, when we
Draw our goals with pens and charcoal pencils
On greedy paper, through selfish stencils
And then exclaim, "This end is not for me"

God teases when the answer's
Gotten close enough to breathe my
Secrets to the air, so they might
Part her lengthening hair, and crawl into
That head hole which hears
Suggestions with no bias

But do I send a pitch that's torn
Or from clay render the image wrong,
Expecting intersecting lines
Called Fate, when reality

Screams the parallels?
As expansion rules existence,
So time rules the growing distance
And while I brood however long,
No matter if this plan is wrong,
I'll follow it 'til breaking

Every night the light steps forward
And I've grown photophobic