My Writings. My Thoughts.
Mean Martini
// December 30th, 2009 // No Comments » // The Arts
Only one
Has ever said they loved me true
And she
Was just a little out of my straight line
But I was sure
I had to search for something more
I found it there, and let it grow
But couldn’t face the questions, so
I’m here, standing here
Is it what you always dreamed of
or you feared?
It’s not so simple
I may be the mess
That sets you on your way
This is the sun
That will not set on questions
So today
Make me your answer
Curiosity won’t kill you
Only two
Have ever felt the same way I did too
But they were just a little
Too much skin for me
Although
I know
That three’s a crowd I’ve grown to like
I’m daring to hope that you don’t mind one on one, on one
I’m thinking that you’ve thought it through
the ups and downs, and downs and ups
And I’m in between
I’ll help you weigh it up
I make a mean martini
I’m here, standing here
is it what you always dreamed of
or you feared?
It’s not so simple
I may be the mess
That sets you on your way
This is the sun
That will not set on questions
So today
Make me your answer
Curiosity won’t kill you
Only I
Can tell you how it feels
To love the skin
That’s just a little thin
To withstand the pain that came
With living in this glasshouse
Trace your fingers down my wrist
The place you’ve always loved to kiss
I’m here standing here
Is it what you always dreamed of
or you feared?
it’s not so simple
I may be the mess
That sets you on your way
This is the sun
That will not set on questions
So today
Make me your answer
Curiosity wont kill you, I don’t think…
So how about that drink?
Blank Canvas
// July 15th, 2009 // No Comments » // The Arts
The little things that never change
Growing on me, chasing strange addictions through me
Dreams, Romantic fictions fill my inspired silences
And I am creatively stale.
Whatever it is you have stirred inside me
Blots out the ink, instead it hides me
Locked in a world of exclusive recluses
I can lose myself
And not lose you
Until we’re lost
With no excuses
No more desires of explaination
Gone are the days of aesthetic creation
Those falsities of which I knew nothing
But when painted well, it was hard to tell.