The Night

The night is warm, but blustry.
I realize my lack.
My laziness, my missing devotion
My motivation is gone.
Why breathe even?

But I must. Because it isn't my life.
Every last breath.

Music is the only thing which can heal some hearts.
That is why I work to do it.
But it's still work.
It...nothing is play.
Because to play is to be a child
And in this world full of tears,
Children aren't wanted.
Children aren't needed.
Professionals are needed.

But in music, the dried
And cracked ears may hear
And play. Inside. Play.

Because it's always raining in the world of adults.

I have a burning knife,
a knife deep in my heart,
the pain, it cuts so deep.
In every joy and desire,
It cuts so painfully and deeply.

Ah, why must I have this wicked guest,
never is he hushed, never will he rest.
Not by day, not by night when I sleep.
Ah, pain.

When I look into the sky,
There I can see his bluest eyes.
Ah, pain.
When in the golden feilds I roam,
There I can see his golden hair
In breezes blown
Ah, pain, Ah, pain.

When I from the dream awoke
I hear ring, his silvery laughter,
Ah pain.

I wished I lay in the darkest grave,
Never again to open my eyes.



~Unknown

Over all mountain tops is peace
In all tree tops, you hardly perceive a breeze.
The little birds are silent in the forest
Wait only, wait only
Soon you will rest too.

-Unknown Author

Frozen Tears

Frozen tears fall from my cheeks
Did I not notice that I've been crying?
O tears, my tears, and are you so tepid,
That you freeze to ice like the cool morning dew?
And yet you gush forth out of the breast so glowing hot,
As if you wanted to melt all Winter's ice!

-Unknown Author

If I Lay Dying

If I lay dying, and all the ones
Whom I love came to me, I would
speak to them.
I would look on them with dying eyes,
Touch them with dying hands
Kiss them with dying lips.

If I lay dying, and was unable...
Unable to say goodbye,
It would be because God,
My best friend and only constant companion knew.
He knew that no words which I could speak,
No tears my dying eyes could shed,
No touch with my dying hands,
No kiss with my dying lips,
Could add anything to the love I had for them.

Sometimes death is as artful as living.
It is not in malice that people die
Goodbyeless.

Charlie's Father was the last Dragon Master

Remembering, the day was long
The wind was cold
Take me away, Rach...
And hold, hold the memories of play
Speak, speak the tongues of holidays
Each of these people are young bands
Tiny minstrels, singing...speak their songs
Storytellers, storywriters.
Bringing memories of childhood.
Memories of childhood.
Stories of dragons and vegetable feinds.

Broken Shadows

The coffee stains me
inside out.
The same as pain,
The same as the memories
which prick.
And I regret, or do I?

Never sell your soul for a kiss.

Who lived in a shoe...
Remember my years, heavy with sorrow --
Remember the whip and the slaver's track.
His books are all jammed in the closet,
His scarf and one ski are beneath the TV.

Anonymous but from:
-A Suspicious Email which I recieved at 4:45pm