Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Odyssey.

I can see a thousand stars tonight.

And there's nothing else to do, but lie in the grass and count them.
Mark them, mourn them.
Those little deaths - those cold, distant, little deaths.

They died for me, says the Ego,
that I could lie here, on the grass and mark them.
Mourn them.
That I could lie here on the grass and whisper,
can you see me here, thinking of you?

They died for me, says the Heart,
that they would mark the place,
where you and I had dreamed,
where you and I had screamed,
where you and I had loved
and burst and burned and believed,
they mark the place where we believed.

They died alone, says the brain,
far from one another in a silent explosion,
and all we see is the echo of their passing,
a footnote of a moment,
and
that is all
you
and I
and they
will ever be.

And tonight,
dancing with the stars,
abandoned by youth,
captive to a savage soul
I hold on to that.
The End gives me perspective,
see?

The End gives me perspective.
The End gives me perspective.

But I don't fucking WANT

perspective.

Because

I can see a sky filled with you.
I can see a sky filled with you.

I can see a sky,

filled with you.

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