the stars, the sea, and sleep.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

A Fitting Career For A Faded Star

It's time to invest in a future
That will mask all my sutures
I'm a young man without plans
Put in permanent ink.
I wrote the right
In pencil-scribed scripts
That lived in my eyes
And read from my lips
But the graphite and friction
Turned my words into fiction
And now all that I carry is gray.

Your hopes left the door open wide
So the clouds in the sky found their way inside.
So now I stare at this haze
Looking for a sentimental way
To say nothing.

And from the cycle of reason to heart,
The haze on the page
Turns to black and white bars
And the rush in my veins
To resuscitate this heart
Has made my face pale
And my sullen stare far.

I am a mime
And I freeze life in mine
To grab the eyes of unconcerned passers by
For a quarter, a nickel, a penny of time
To throw in a hat, presented with tricks
But my final act squanders each second hand quick
In situations that grow until well overripe
While I sit in my cell wearing sad silent stripes.

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