I need far too many things,

And want at least a hundred more,

To fill up my suitcases,

And overflow out my back door.

Right now I'm stuck and seated,

With dreams way bigger than my head,

But I can't reach them; not yet,

So I will sit and think instead.

I haven't had a moment,

Since I opened my eyes today,

That slowed my quickened heartbeat,

And turned my harsh white into a grey.

I step out of the music,

And stand beside the humming throng,

To see where this will lead me,

'Cause I might as well tag along.

The drumbeat sounds so sweet now,

That I'm not waiting for a cue,

To raise my octaves higher,

Than the piano cords, subdued.

My footsteps are my rhythm,

Steady, one after the other,

It let me thinks of silence,

In a pure form, without smother.

Peace. Reconciliation.

Inner quiet if just for a beat,

Harmony in strange places,

In your head, sitting in your seat

Maybe you would.

Or maybe you would find something worth opening your eyes for.

Maybe even tears would fail you,

Maybe for the first or last time,

But maybe,

It would last long enough for you to see clearly.

And it's the hope that you will,

That helps me hold the knife,

Say my prayers,

Then split open my skull,

Just so you can get a better look.

Maybe,

Because I forgot what the look on your face means,

I would do anything.

Even if anything meant,

Pouring out every ounce of me,

Until all that remained is a broken geode,

With empty lungs.

And maybe,

Just maybe,

We'll be able to see,

That the light at the end of the tunnel,

Was the reflection,

Of a horizon,

That promises a much better tomorrow.

And once my head is is empty,

It's easier for me to turn,

And welcome the dawn.

Or maybe you'll just cry.

And maybe I'll cry too.

So then we can turn together,

To see what morning brings us,

Even if it's not what we want to see,

Maybe it's just what we need.

My eyes just aren’t big enough.

Not that they don’t see far,

Not that they ignore what’s near,

But that there’s just too much to see.

For instance, the scribbles in my calendar,

That used to be calligraphy,

Content in praise and fueled by time,

Was replaced by caustic scribbles,

That spell words I want to read forever.

If I don’t grow an inch every year,

Then my skin pulls tight overweary bones,

My heart pounds against too-small ribs,

And I cry until I’m small enough to fit again,

With no progress made at all.

The cusp of summer and fall is my favourite,

As I too shed my old skin.

It’s therapeutic.

But my neighbour thinks that all of the leaves,

Clutter up his yard.

Orange is his least favourite colour,

And fall reminds him of the days when his kids were at home.

He shuts the blinds and doesn’t want to see.

While the lady across the road,

Opens her window and smells the air,

Content in the emptiness of her house.

I am never happy with a 99%,

But that doesn’t mean everyone’s like me.

Some write off that 1% as unattainable and stay the same.

Others wish they had gotten lower,

So people would stop trying to look over their shoulder.

A man who has been taught his entire life to climb,

Whose ancestors started at the bottom of the mountain,

Reached the top before those who started yesterday.

If he was me, he would race to the bottom and start again.

If he was my neighbour, he would lament those who couldn't make it.

If he was the lady across the way, he might revel in their failure.

I can knock on my neighbour's door,

But he doesn't have to answer.

Not for me, or anyone.

The truth is lonely but true.

Everyone has a light switch,

And while some refuse to touch it in the name of preservation,

Others find new colours to decorate their room.

I can't change my neighbour,

But I sure can change me.

Some go forward, some go back,

I guess that's how it's meant to be.

My name is deduction,

If you cut me, I shall bleed.

I have twelve ribs,

And one rule:

What I know is all I need.

Beyond the iron gate,

Eastward to the rising sun,

Comes a pretty,

Little song,

That ends with a firing gun.

I know what lays out there,

Curled up, cold, and very deep;

The light I see,

Is Hellfire,

So I just go back to sleep.

There are far greater men,

Who have come and gone by me,

I don’t pretend,

That I am,

More virtuous than thee.

I am cool autumn rain,

Unremarkable and lame,

I haven’t got,

Nor do want,

The fulfillment that comes with fame.

It’s easy to pretend,

The pounding upon my door,

Is in my head;

I am dead,

And already damned for sure.

The ringing in my ears,

Still won’t just leave me alone,

Even as I,

Kneel and pray,

It chills me down to the bone.

The sky beyond the gate,

Becomes darker every day,

The fog is thick,

So is rain;

It’s melted my black to grey.

Heaven cannot be real,

I’ve lived without for this long.

I will not see,

It can’t be,

The finale of this song.

The ringing is a choir,

That shrieks until I’m awake.

So I get up,

And I see,

The shedded skin of a snake.

But what all does this mean?

Yesterday, I would have said,

It is nothing,

You’re dreaming,

Ignore it and go to bed.

This madness is too much,

So I resort to my creed,

That when I’m hurt,

Blood will spill;

Instead my skin wilts like weeds.

I sink down to the floor,

And put my head in my hand,

How can this be?

What is this?

Why do I not understand?

How I feel isn’t real,

I don’t know what’s in my chest,

Or in my house,

Or at all,

Or if I could even guess.

The singing gets louder,

I can tell they’re calling me;

All of my good,

And my bad,

Can no longer hide or flee.

The dark is ever closer,

I don’t know if I’ll be spared.

Heaven or Hell,

I don’t know,

And that unknown makes me scared.

I draw a line on my doorway,

A red X to lead you home,

The sun sets then rises again;

Another night spent alone.

I see stars on my window pain,

They're so bright they hurt my eyes,

I latch the lock and close the drapes;

I can't listen to their lies.

They say the moon is coming soon,

That she'll brighten up the night,

Then the clouds come and cover me,

And she hides just out of sight.

I can't help but cry when it rains,

Or shed a tear when there's frost,

I stay inside when I see fog,

'Cause if I don't, I'll get lost.

People say the sun shines brightly,

And I guess I'll believe them,

Even though they still insist that,

There aren't thorns on every stem.

I wish that I had a dollar,

For every tear that I cried,

So I could buy some golden wings,

And finally see the sky.

I bet you wouldn't believe me,

'Cause I bet it wouldn't show,

That once, somebody loved me,

But that was so long ago.

I know what you would say to that;

"You didn't deserve it then,

You don't deserve it now, either,

You don't deserve it again."

You're the only one who loves me,

You're the only one who can,

I'm broken and unfixable,

And worth less than any man.

My bedroom feels warm when you're gone,

The kitchen is cleaner too,

I start to imagine my house,

Without the traces of you.

I put your coat on my front step,

So I can finally think,

Without you breathing down my neck,

I fill the kitchen sink.

The water splashes on the floor,

Down the hall, to my doorway,

Where the X has started to blanch,

As your hold on me gives way.

You left to punish me, I know,

But the air is cleaner now,

And I feel happier than sin;

More than what you would allow.

So I take my bag and my shoes,

And all my broken parts,

You'll never break me again, I swear,

From the bottom of my heart.

We were tight-knit boys, brothers in more than name.

You would kill for me, and knew that I'd do the same.

But nothing goes as planned; everything will break.

People say goodbye in their own special way.

"Everything goes away", but you're all I taste,

At night inside of my mouth.

Because you're in my veins, and I cannot get you out.

But you ran, 'cause I am not what you found.

All my life I've never known where you've been,

All that you rely on and all that you can save,

Goes away.

And I heard you say right when you left that day:

"Everything is dark, and it's more than I can take."

But then you catch a glimpse of sunlight shining,

Shining down on your face,

And I told you, you could blame me when there's no one else to blame,

But you couldn't say the same.

And it cut me sharp, hearing you'd gone away,

When all that you rely on, and all that you can fake,

Will leave you in the morning, to come and find you in the day.

They said you were the crooked kind and that you'd never have no worth,

But you were always gold to me.

So I'm going to be here until I'm nothing but bones in the ground,

So call whenever you're around,

And I'll quiet down.

"Everything will change because nothing stays the same."

There were holes in you, the kinds I could not mend,

And nobody here's perfect. Oh, but everyone's to blame

I am fine with where I am now; this home is home and all that I need

But for you, this place is shame.

But I cannot get you out,

No, I cannot get you.

We were opposites at birth, I was steady as a hammer,

But you're in my veins, and they'll know where I'll be,

Because we never saw New York and we ain't ever cross the sea,

But you were always gold to me.

I was there when you grew restless; left in the dead of night.

And I was there when three months later, you were standing in the door all beat and tired.

And I stepped aside.

****

Always Gold - Radical Face

In My Veins - Andrew Belle