celebrate. the waste of ink

I am a snuffed flame below a paper castle
balancing on the unsteady hands of lovers
and
dreamers
...

Cursing hope, I fall to the ground. . .
licking the soil, for it gives me birth
It gives me chance.
This soil, and these hands
[planted firmly] in the drugged up
lands of curiosity. .



We all know eachother here,
We all know. .


Clasping onto your arms tightly, as though
we'll never know tomorrow.
or the polka-dotted dress I wear, the tangled
streaks of fate in my hair

. . .

you hold my hand, I feel again

. . .

What is revolution?
Is it this moment-this hour, ours forever

forever:: a word I've come to hate in my dreams

.. ... .... .... .. . .. . . .

you could be what takes me away,
you could be what makes smiling seem worthwhile
again.

here, fragments of loathing and green are
struggling on through the air,
finding their unwelcome place in the open hearts

We must be ready for pain, we need to embrace it
always, n.o.t.h.i.n.g is forever

faint forever
I could not leave this,
for it is by my hands that the city is lit each night.
I create , and my heart is my own..
bleeding silver and gold
on the shining pearl white floors
....

"you are made out of the unattainable"

.Let her go, and I've found you.