THE SIXTH BOUROUGH

like wolves. like smoke. like the rest of the fucking world.

January 28, 2011

one on one

It feels nice, having a voice again. Call me gothic, but words just can't explain how great it is. I need to thank my muse. You know who you are.
I appreciate your giving voice to the voiceless, and being the only person who reads this bullshit.


she gives (me)aning.

raise the flag_.
raise the fucking white flag.
these faces won’t stop staring
and their anticipation
is killing me,
so i’m killing them.
(we’re all dead anyways.)

why not latch?
why not leech?
we can’t win on our own
and we can’t heal
without first diagnosing our
symptoms.

i’m searching you
for something
(everything)
i’ve hated.
(and you know damn well)
it’s everything
i’ve ever fucking wanted.

our dirty circuitry is circling;
(you encircle me)
i would _love_
to be
lost in our symmetry;
in our twisted little forestry;
our fortress
(our dream).

something so simply hidden
should not have been
so hard to find.
i’ve invested time
(after time)
in the same
useless search,
but now i’ve found
a new puzzle;
a new struggle.
and it’s the best kind
of trouble;
(you give me)
the best time
i’ve never had.

Going nowhere never seemed this meaningful.

-dalton.

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