so tell me boy, did you carve pretty poetry in your wrists, too?
i've seen your masochistic smile and bags of worry under those green green eyes-
do they ever fall apart?
you're a stone- faced gargoyle and i am notre dame and we co-exist in
a way that we destroy each other, one limestone chip at a time.
tell me if you long for silence because my words only make you feel emptier than before because they're so meaningless-
but boy, the only thing i have left are words and if they aren't enough
then i never will be.
i need to see your hands so that i can tell if you've given up
because i've come to realize that the truth is only told in your palms
and those green green eyes can lie their way straight
through to my stone-cold heart.
when silence holds you by the very tips of your toes
and threatens with her golden teeth to let you slip slip slip away in
to the black abyss of quiet
she sings you a song you'll never hear twice-
of raindrops floating through clouds and radio lines of love.
she'll tell you to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth
and to pretend you're on a wave- and that everything else but
the turbid ebb and flow
of your misery is irrelevant-
because everything really, really is.
[your misery is what i breathe.]
you don't write and you don't sing and you don't dream because
you don't believe and somehow that makes me love you more because
you are everything i am not and somehow you are still so much more
you smoke double happiness as if you're trying to understand what it means
even though really they're your sadness and cigarettes are a facade for
and i would know, too.
every time i slip into dream you reappear and your face is only more
haunting than when i went to sleep and it kills kills kills me to see
the laugh-lines around your smile and the dwelling cess-pit of
melancholy madness so obviously placed right between your eyebrows.
so tell me if you want silence to hold your tippy- toes as you tip- toe out of my life and my meaningless words and my dreams.
tell me with your green green eyes, boy-
i'm tired of reading your palms.