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If death knocked on my door todayIf death knocked on my door today
I would offer it tea and cookies.
If death knocked on my door tonight
I would allow it to sleep close to the light.
If death knocked on my doors at noon
I would tell it to get the cow
If death knocked on my door too soon
I would give it a spanking then a bow
If Death knocked on my doors right now
I would take its hand and go away
Not to return back to life
Letting death lead the way
Little sisterMy sister dear
Look at me
You have nothing to fear
Together we will always be
Our brothers may fight
our sisters may scream
But as long as we don't lose sight
We can fight as a team
My heart is broken
Because of this fight
But you are still strong
Because we fight for what is right
Secret up and downIt was a secret
No one knew
Not even we, who found it.
Secret of heaven
Secret of hell
Secret hid on earth
It was alone
We found it
We took it
We made it our own
We didn't know
It was a child from heaven
And down below
Angel Winged DemonWhen I die
I will earn my wings
As an angel or not
When I'm gone
I will fly
As a devil or not
But if I´m an angel
And you Satan in hell
Don't expect me
To come and sin
But if I´m a demon
And you god in heaven
Don't expect me
To beg for forgiveness
Don't cryYou have the smile
To rival the sun
To describe your laugh
Mere words are not enough
When your eyes are filled with wonder
They are bright like the moon
I never want to leave you
It would always happen too soon.
I have seen your tears
When you were sad
They fell like glittering gems.
But you are more beautiful when you are glad
You are my life and my soul
My heart beats only for thee
So don’t cry
Please don’t cry
FacelessBeware of mirrors
on the darkest night
It's the faceless ghost
that wants your light
She roams the halls
she attacks your dreams
she drains your heart
she rips your gleam
she wears Victorian
her short hair is shame
it was cut by bullies
she payed them with her game
Married a spirit
gave up her soul
just to make them pay
those who played her with foul
LullabyPut down your toys
My lovely child
Day is over
so rest your mind
You are safe, you are sound
So sleep as the world goes around
Be not afraid, I am with you
Be assured I love you too
The moon is shining above your head
Sleep my child, rest your gleam
Sleep my child
Night GirlLittle girl, five years old
She has only lived for so long
Yet her eyes have gotten cold
And she murmurs this little song
'Sleep my mother
The night has come
I killed my brother
She hides in the light
Her eyes so close to gray
She sneaks in the night
And hunts down her pray
MomI still feel your hand
Patting my head
I dream when you are near
Thinking of what you said
You love me very much
And I really like you too
Your smile drives away my worries
Hugs are the best when they are from you
When I have a nightmare
You come to me
Saying it is alright
Singing me back to sleep
“Mom, i love you”
“I love you too my child”
I gave her a hug
She patted me and smiled
Change this lifeHiding in the shadows
Resisting in secrecy
Trying to find a way
To change this life of misery
The future is unknown
The past is to forget
The present is dull and boring
Is this what life has to offer?
I want to change
And I keep trying
Only to fail miserabily
Every single time
A lifeA life
when i stimulated the prayers of rib-beat
when i licked the temple of my teeth,
speed pushed my fingers shaped like confessionals
clasped holy, carved my throat to fixing-
lover; i did this for the anthem of your eyes,
the feel of strangled feet crushing the fame of stars
for the glow of streetlight worship, for the moons
of your crooning throat, for the halls of your arms,
the strayed revels of your arms,
lover: you manufactured a god out of the drugs i used
and had me addicted to the divine, to the dignity of music
you pressed in my direction: just what i am, hallelujah,
marijuana, day and night-
lover, i fell in love with your culture
that preached the real definition of dusked kneecaps,
the plea of closeted throats, the whisper of bless,
unlearning how to say please god in borrowed tongue,
i fell in love with your attention, nervous grace
lover. i levied the rubble of my sins
Even The City KnowsIs it at all easy?
Being by yourself, I mean.
Sitting in a car, on a train, on a bus--wherever you might be now, isn't it hard to be a drifter?
There are no men with newspapers, no women with strollers, no love-crazy teenagers, no annoying toddlers, no anybody.
You stare out the window, like there are people out there, calling your name. The trees are out there, and they've lost all their leaves, all their buds--they've lost everything, just like you.
The sky is out there, and it's gray and colorless, just like you.
The stars are out there, and they're so blown-out-of-proportion, and they're just like you, too.
But the trees, the skies, the stars, they're used to being left alone.
You lack the ebullience of your drink, but it, too, is fading.
Frost has gathered on windows, on the ground, on rivers, everywhere.
Frost comes and goes, just like you, when you finally melt away.
The city draws to darkness and quiet--it disappears, just like you.
But, even frost
Synesthesia - III have learned not to say
when your voice burns under my tongue -
learned not to shiver
at the cold of sirens on the street -
learned not to describe
the pricks and strokes and touches.
I have learned that skin cannot hear,
nor ears feel
(whichever it is).
How strange to think:
I may travel all my life
and never find a lover who can hold my laugh in his palms.
Death to the LoversHe screamed,
He tore his hair from his scalp;
But it didn't bring her back.
The beautiful girl
With the gorgeous smile
And witty remarks
Would always lay six feet under.
She would lie in her death bed,
Her arms folded on her chest
And her face full of peace
Known only to the dead.
He would be the first to rot.
First his health,
Then his sanity.
She would forever feed on his emotions
Like a pretty little leech,
Sapping his well being
And happiness from her underground world.
And he would let her,
For a fool like him
Who allowed himself to love,
the tattoo artist.she finds gems hidden underneath my skin and
rips them out with her teeth, the sores
along my arms swelling with pride and red; never
has she wondered if the pain would make me
grit my teeth into powder—no, she knows
i take it like a man takes steak:
raw and tough and bloody, like my fingers
after picking scabs to let some fresh air in; her
words are etched on the point of a needle, and she
is a tattoo artist drilling ink into my body, her lines
thick with moxie: "alive" splayed out across
my wrist, "awake" above my heart—she paints
a vision on my eyelids of an endless sky and
tells me it doesn't belong to me, but that i
can have it; perhaps foolishly,
i believe her every word
Where my corpse is foundAs I lay here,
On the guest room's bed,
My grandmother exchanges the oxygen
for the delectable scents of cinnamon, sugar, candy.
She does this through the magic of baking
Gingerbread Men, Gingerbread Houses, Yule logs, Candy Canes.
While I smell my cruel ex-boyfriend's suffocating tangy cologne.
I hear the laughter of people outside the streets.
Their loud, cheerful voices show the huge smiles on their frost bitten faces.
While my ears hear the bitter melody of arguments.
My parents' failure to stay together as promised in a holy place
caused my lovely imprisonment here at my sweet grandparents' house.
Through the slight opening of my door and through the windows,
Color penetrates the Darkness I have worked hard to create.
One usually embraces the Illuminating Decorations.
While I lie down here to reminisce my friends
Who are Traitors;
Proof of their conniving betrayal was the broken art project
of A Christmas Star
sitting alone on the floor.
People at this time feel w
AerosolIt has been a day and a half since the crash, and I have found a cabin. In some ways, this is a relief. I don’t know if I could face another night on the mountain without shelter. Outside, a fire does no good: the heat simply travels upwards. However, this place also raises some difficult questions. I estimate that I’ve put eight miles between myself and the crash site. I don’t know if this will be enough. It Saving...
occurs to me that I don’t really know anything.
The survival manual recommends staying with the plane. It explains that this affords the best chance of rescue. It explains that the wreckage offers warmth and shade. It explains that seventy percent of pilots who stay are located within three days, while seventy percent of those who leave are
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