Time Out Of Hand

red

Kissing tongues, and Jodie the pig. She sits in the window with big red eyes, laughing as the world passes her by. Be charming. Speak of horrors. Move from room to room, and tell tales of all that could’ve been. Burning lanterns. Sinking sands. Eclipsed suns, and passing moons above our lonely heads. Minds split. From time to time, they can’t help but implode. But baby, don’t fear the reaper. Just give yourself so truly. The body will suffer, and spirits will flower. Sinking stars, so lowly in the winter months. Discontent. Nausea. Changing times, embracing all that we deserve. And we deserve much, much more. Between heaven and hell, we repent. We dance on thin ice, just waiting for the moment our hearts will sing again. Things happen. Mistakes are made. We neglect when we don’t mean too. Guilt traps. Sadness, sticky like tar.

Starless, and time out of hand. Sanctuary. Romance. Bodies in the lake. Doorways made of light. Lovers, reaching for something obscure. A little comfort, when coldness reigns supreme. The woods can be cruel. They can smother all sense of hope. Yet we have to keep on moving. The light is never far from reach. It shines even when escape seems impossible. Keep on believing. Keep holding on, for a time when we can breathe together just like we used to. Climb through the branches of despair, and cling to outstretched arms. There’s always someone who cares. Someone who’s willing to save the damned. And damned we are, for daring to step outside the lines of this man made misery.

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