Sometimes

I’ve joined the ranks of the black and the blue,

I thought I could make it through without being pierced by the eyes of the wolves.

I watched them claim their kills, lining them up and marking them down.

One by one my friends fell around me and still,

I thought I could make it through.

It is hard to pass a sheep’s skin for the mane of a lion.

I’m calling out the names of my friends,

as if calling cards could stop time.

Sometimes

While I watch rainwater pool on these windows I remember that first night,

The Northern Skies split open and we let our hearts drain out with them.

A girl, with her heart in her hands, and boy with his locked deep inside a steel cage,

and another somewhere in between. She breathed life into him, as her heartbeats echoed from his metallic walls,

and I got to see a little bit of magic.

Sometimes

The only cure to crippling loneliness is found in the shared exhales of two people, so beaten, they swear,

they could only be fragments of glass inside automated bodies.

Where is the switch that could turn off some apathy for the rest of the night?

At least the stillness of the lake at our feet knows how to speak to the stillness of our souls.

I still have not found that switch, but I promised my love to you, and that’ll pull me through.

Sometimes

Two people really are the same.

How we ended up colliding with one another, I’ll never truly remember.

If I were asked when I knew I love you more than I could describe, all I could say was always.

Such is the way with space and time.

Thank you so much for what you have given me.

Sometimes

The world works through showing glimmers of half-truths.

I watched you leaving, and I breathed in the emptiness of a hole so big.

At the time I had no way of knowing the wolves would soon chase me out as well.

Instead I rolled the dye, and took more chances on my own life. Even when we finally

were alone and away, when I looked in your eyes all I saw were reflections of sharp fangs and

yellow glares where I used to find love.

I still can’t blame you for being so scared you believe the fangs were your own,

and when I finally did give you my heart you took it in your sheep’s mouth and ran while I stayed silent, watching.

Sometimes

The moon glows from above,

Her halo shimmering faintly as a crown. She reminds me I am not alone, and I never will be.

Somewhere I learned to love right, and so did you, though we both forget.

How could the sun and the moon allow life if not for their love?

As long as the skies are above the ground we will have them to guide us.

Sometimes

The world can be a bitch. It can thrust its arms places it does not belong,

only to be dealt with by a bit of narcissism.

Why does the world fuck with us? Because we are strong.

Why are we strong? Because the world fucked with us.

Beyond that, not much sense can be made, but when crying on the bathroom floor,

during a school dance your arms were the only things that did make sense.

Sometimes

Eating hashbrowns and chasing the sunset are as close to brothers as one can get in this life.

Riding the whip and changing the songs to what we want, without touching the radio.

Sometimes, too, demon possession can take on the form of sibling rivalry.

I’m just glad we’re all alright.

Take care of yourself, because you are the only younger/bigger brother I’ve got.

Sometimes

More things need to happen before others can begin.

After fighting for our place for too long I had to leave again.

I hope you know how much I care about and respect you.

I guess, sometimes, being the first ones to leave really means being the first to figure it out.

And we will.

Sometimes

All people really need is a little more love.

The scariest of queens can be the gentlest of friends if allowed.

I have watched you go through one of the most beautiful changes I have yet to see.

Thank you so much for all of your help, I literally would not have made it without you.

If there is anything I have left you with, I hope it is the fact that people and things can change.

I cannot wait to be doing work with your highness once again.

Sometimes

The revolution takes place in cups of coffee shared over cheap paper plates.

The secret revolt plotted out amongst the haze of smoke, only to return

to nothing on the shared exhalation. When will we sing with one voice?

When will our hearts and minds turn towards the same problem, so the even if

we cannot reach a conclusion we can at least hold one another in mutual confusion?

If the price we pay for excessive individuality is the death of the collective, when will we realize what that death truly means?

When the smoke has settled from the tip of a chrome gun, will the twisted smile break?

Or will the separation of self and other have grown too extreme already? It was self-defense, I was scared, they wanted my power. Her body falls to the ground, taking with it any opportunity for continuation. They were the last two. The only parts of his claims that holds legitimacy was that fear killed one of them.

Sometimes good things come to an end.