Ragdoll-Tears

I've always found mornings more likeable than nights. For starters, there is the sun streaming through each individual crack in the vertical blinds, and the sheets are pulled up high, when suddenly they turn cold. The warmth of the shower beckons you, your standing there. I'm still dreaming. I snap back into reality when there's a knock on the door, someone else wants to dream for a while. There is something about coffee, which draws me in. I love the smell of roasting beans, or even just the smell of the packaged one, but I love it all the more when I'm holding a mug of it. Mornings can't be mornings without coffee. That's for sure. Then t

As the sun broke free from the clouds I wondered when this yellow shroud would disappear from my head I would love to shed out of my soul, my shell left empty, open and growling I feel thw wind, lift me off my feet and take me across your land, i feel it howling, beating into my dry skin I want to scrap it, throw it back into the bin, kneel down and sacrafice Ground me down I still haven't found a question that fits the answers that you never ask, silent Dont stare, i feel your violent glare prickle against my back Dissolving, throw back my head and have a cack And we could talk about all the things YOU lack I yell in your f

Shards of glass litter the streets as the walls of this world splinter and fall Because we wanted it, wanted it all We denied ourselves the right to work together as one, denied ourselfs the right to some fun We were led by advertising, billboards and television, a totally engrossed consumer's world Where animals talked from rectangular boxes and children were robots, engineered to learn and serve, a daily job A city, government robbing its nation of the real human race a politically incorrect, crazy, injust chase This world has crashed and died but it has no tears, it did not cry

Standing by the gate holding a blue and white flag Clutching a guitar case and an old woman's bag Angst crossing over his pale face as his eyes wander all over the place The crowd marches past mechanical souls with mechanical movements His heart feels like a chunk of coal weighing him down in his chest A man in the crowd, strikes out the man gives a struggle and a shout In tatters lie his mother's bag, spilled contents that he has kept since she passed The offender looks away and smiles and then is embraced in laughter Staring at it, shedding tears from his face seperation, each single one dissolving and pressing against hi