XXVII

XXVII

Sunday, November 10, 2013

Daemons

Speak to the leaves now

Under the trees I'm prohibited...
We know all that's left inside
Will cycle through... Can I recycle? 
The right from the wrong?
Can I ignore the daemons? 
Can I doubt my words... The prayers
Of all I spoke of before... no...?

It all seems pure... 
But sometimes I don't know where it comes from
Maybe we're not suppose to know the answers 
And just work the mindless jobs to survival... 
But how does one survive themselves...?
Its getting colder under this tree 
The more I dwell...
The more you praise me for what I don't know feels real anymore...

Paint me the expression on your face 
When you've finally lost me...
Does it speak like the leaves....
Or the voice of a daemon?
I have to give up on the thought even if it kills me
Even if it's a prayer in hell... 

The promise is folding... 
Letters into a little box... A voice on recording... 
With or without the drugs... 
How do you manage all emotions coming through at once... 
How do you love without the pain? 
Such feelings that resurface...  
Or die just the same... 

Continue living.

Its getting colder under this tree 

The more I dwell...
The more you praise me for what I don't know feels real anymore...


Ignore the daemons.

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