|armed and recycled|
I can't do anything anymore so I just lay aroundonly here,I can't do anything anymore so I just lay around by TheStoyTeller
in the barren wasteland of my bedroom
do i ever find a pack of skeletons,
none dancing, none singing,
but all just laying there on their spines,
glaring at the walls.
They are like me, except I never do feel at home
not with these teeth marks on my heart
and my lost collection of egos
and feeling worth it.
the world is spinning faster than I can keep up,
but slow enough to lull me to laziness.
the sun is 92,960,000 miles away
but it is closer to me than anything has ever been.
still, I run my fingers through the carpet,
looking to touch something, to feel.
there is marrow there,
maybe even a foreign skin from somewhere underground,
but all I see is a herd of biologists, and make-ups and DNA's;
I can't tell which is mine anymore.
your ignorant ambitions drove you awayyou are in Ireland,your ignorant ambitions drove you away by TheStoyTeller
with that same thunder in your eyes,
setting fire to the greenery of men's hearts.
I can sometimes see that same spark
in me, rumbling, low and hungry.
So I cling to it. The one thing that burns,
that hurts, that assures me I am not
numb, that I am living with blood in me,
and there are neurons that are gassed and running
that I am
in the very least.
you are in Ireland,
with your coal hair and unforgiving touch.
there was a lightning in you,
striking every chord of your own happiness.
no, I haven't seen a red cardigan since you left,
and daylight doesn't look the same.
I miss you
and I know I am missing
are where I am supposed to be
Jovianwe are not alone in the universe,Jovian by TheStoyTeller
this I know.
and just as I am sure that there is
water on other planets,
I am certain that I will find love again
in hearts unknown