The Guide To Grace When Falling Apart

Hello. Where are you? Here. Where? Right here. Can you feel that? Yes. That's me. I see. Yes. You feel like me. I am.

The Road Trip

If our arms aren't strong enough, we'll rip the roof off with our hearts. If the road is dark, our dreams will light the way. If there isn't space in the back, we'll make space in our hopes. Pack a bag with everything you want to keep and leave the rest behind. Because I'm coming to pick you up.

The Some Other Day (Rain, Rain)

You are 10 000 angels, standing in the rain (10 000 angels, treading water to remain).

So Earth, stay firm.
My fire, burn.
The sky, to fly.
Sweet water, subside.

10 000 angels waiting for the sun (10 000 angels, each and every one).

Wax on wings.
Till hope it brings.
To rooftops on high.
Till sweet water, subsides.

The Village It Was

We’re a city of aliens. Pretending to be people we’re not until we’re comfortable enough with each other to be who we are. So only you know who I am.

The Beakers I'd Break

And I'd study the science of you till I turned it into an art. The way your atoms rub together. Molecules colliding. Chemistry building.

Explosions of heat and radiation. Burning like a star at the end of the world.

The Scratches That Made Me

You buy things and you keep them clean. You take care of them. Keep them in a special pocket. Away from keys and coins. Away from other things that should be kept clean and taken care of as well. Then they get scratched. And scratched again. And again. And again. And again. Soon, you don't care about them anymore. You don't keep them in a special pocket. You throw them in the bag with everything else. They've surpassed their form and become nothing but function. People are like that. You meet them and keep them clean. In a special pocket. And then you start to scratch them. Not on purpose. Sometimes you just drop them by accident or forget which pocket they're in. But after the first scratch, it's all downhill from there. You see past their form. They become function. They are a purpose. Only their essence remains.

The Tales From The Bar

You're just another story I can't tell anymore.