Different Kinds Of Death

Just remember its not real,

Where is the stapling of the pages,

Or the licking of the envelope seal.

Its not a done deal,

Its not real,

Its not real.


Crowds, the masses

Tell you

What you wish was not true,

You knew you knew the sky would become a different shade of blue,

One day one day

Your goodbyes were overdue

Time to start a-new

Chapter seven was over and through.

Now heartbreak shoo shoo shoo.


Missing you,

Which you?

The dead one?

Which kind of setting sun?

The way one’s absract

Leaves their body to rot.

Or the ones that forgot the way they could make my belly quiver and warm,

Like a buzzard swarm,

Their core was ripped and torn.

I’ve sworn I will always care, I will always care.

To the day my memory might be gone and bare,

But until then what do we have to share?

What is left there?

I look into your iris, the one still alive with oxygen,

And stare. I find your glare to be cold,

I remember one day I dreamed we’d grow old,

But on top of your light, it is covered by tar colored mold.

I’m sold on the love, I’m sold on the commitment I made,

To always make you jade tea when you’ve become sick of the unpredicatable sea that is life.

This is why  people these days  never take a wife,

Because even if their bodies are still here,

The thing you admired might disappear.


Death of the inside,

I have to much pride

To give up on the ones I promised.


But what of the ones who promised my body,

Told me they’d care until our bodies got sody

And we decomposed,

We’d become what some called barbarians,

We’d be declothed,

My first reponse is,

Those lucifarians,

How dare they promise and leave,

This is when my nostalgia, my heart, my yellow,

It aches and grieves,

But then I glance at what looks to be a simple leaf.


The patterns,

All stem from one line,

I see this as a sign, that those who’ve have died in anyway,

Bodies gone or changed day by day,

Are connected to me,

The person I used to see has added to the branches of my tree,

I will continue to branch off the line I began,

Each line its own, but a-like,

It grow, the branches ,the patterns into who I will be


Each life that enters,

Possibly unconsciously lends me a piece of their centers.

Our moments together

Can never be severed.

The main channels of my brain television may forget this minor incision,

But the inner-wires have made their decision,

To hold on.


A piece is left in me.

A piece is left in me.

I’ll never forget, I’ll never forget.

I’ll never regret.

It was worth it,

To sit upon your invisible lap and to for maybe just a mill-second,

Fill the hole in my gut.

Even if you’re in a rut, never to climb out, without a doubt, I will do my best,

To call upon the rest,

The best of you in my mind,

Come to your aid with a heart mild-mannered jade smile.

I just wish you’d do the same for me, after its been a while.



About coloredstatic

@2kedalow Alien, Manipulator of Color and fields of vision, Merperson, Pixie with some giants blood, Neverland Travel Agent.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s