Children Are Scary

Ah, the cherubs with demonic tendencies
Who smile and laugh with joy and ease —
Who doesn’t look in awe at these?
And what icy heart won’t soon unfreeze
At the sight of they who play so free,
So unburdened by those burdensome things
Like time, mistakes, morality,
They look so light they might take wing.

But the burdens still are ours
And so too are the dreams
And while the cherubs pick their flowers
In your mind remain the screams
Of a conscience that is coming through
As “children are scary”
But what it’s really telling you
Is, “they really should be scared of me.”

Recurring Regret

I’ve been dreaming of you again:
My bloodless sister, my long-lost friend.
We used to be as thick as thieves,
Until stealing away became my trend.

I’d caught anger and fallen ill;
And thinking quarantine was best,
I shut you out until you caught a chill
And decided to leave me to my rest.

But now I see you in my dreams
And in them, we are friends again;
But in waking up, I recall the years,
And I only want to sleep again.


I want to have a sea foam house,
Just a walk down from the beach:
A decor of shells and ocean air;
Sand in corners that I never reach.

I want to have a summer home
In a place where winters wander long:
Forget about the burning sun;
Forget the haze that’s rarely gone.

I want to have a place my own,
Where the rules are mine to make;
Where the experiences go beyond the door,
And none of the truths inside are fake.

I want to have my sea foam house;
I want my peaceful beach.
I want to know I have my place;
And that who I am is never out of reach.

I Don’t Want To Go To Sleep…

I don’t want to go to sleep,
I don’t care how long I take;
You tell me I should go to sleep —
But I don’t want to wake.

Don’t ask me now to go to sleep:
I know the morning, when it comes,
Will be oblivion so sweet,
That to it I gladly will succumb.

So I don’t want to go to sleep;
Because I won’t want to wake.
There’s no escape yet from the fog of sleep
That when the morning comes, I’ll take.

Leaden Heart

I wake with a leaden heart
On a day that isn’t worth the start
And I’d fain watch it all fall apart,
But it isn’t worth the effort.

Instead I grasp at wisps of dreams,
Hoping they’ll hide me from all the things
I do not know, or will not seize,
And will only leave untouched or burnt.

A Slight Case Of Insanity

Perhaps it will be cured
With a healthy dose of happiness;
When all my dreams are in my reach
And I have but to make my wish.

Perhaps it will be cured
With a little dose of love;
When I hardly even feel the ground,
And my eyes twinkle like stars above.

Perhaps it will be cured
With a giant dose of joy;
When all the dark is gone away,
And I no longer am the devil’s toy.

Or perhaps it will be cured
With a right dose of reality:
Just a step out from the door;
For every cure must start with me.