everythings tainted
by the long lost gone
touch of my
perverse
abstract
memories
there is this strange pleasure
in being alone
that moment you know
for sure
that no ones coming
no ones ever knocking on your door
or making you a surprise
no stranger bearing gifts
just a lullaby playing
over and over
inside you ears
as if to remind you
its all wrong
the memories
the song
when all you love most
has made you mad
the ink runs over my skin
washes the house in black
back to the days
i lied in the dark
i just knew
there would be no time
no truce
nothing left to start
i could run
or learn to play the piano
or have many more man
and continue to always be
the one who leaves
but nothing sufices
what is lost
what is hidious
in between
always
where i once was
i cant seem to truly go
anywhere
