Daylight leaks through the window. Bottles of empty promises at the foot of a cold bed. Cigarettes stubbed out on books, and the stench of stale air blanketing pale skin. Time out of hand, the morning drowns all hope. Nausea and regret on her trembling lips, she’s just a girl of little consequence. Painted fingernails and fake eyelashes stuck together with a face smeared with the lust of a hundred stormy nights. Rewind and go back to happiness. Fall asleep not fearing tomorrow. Tear out the pages, and write them anew. The streets sing songs of being alone, they speak of every memory you ever wished you could banish to kingdom come. Security in childhood dreams. Passion in my arms with a heart that yearns for something more. So many moments when the chances slipped through worthless fingers. So many times when redemption was just out of reach. Empty rooms and a television on mute. Music playing to someone not really there. Food uneaten. Body so lacking in energy. The same wordless footsteps in the fall. Random cars passing in the darkness. Blankets covering worn out souls, as the madness of introspection picks away like a hammer and sickle. Sick and tired. Unuttered truths and dreary routines. Despair paves the way for beauty. It takes us away from shapes, and delivers us to feelings. Hope in the smallest of touches. There’s a landscape of wonder in us all. There’s a place in the universe, where we can be without fear. Beneath a shining sun, we will someday be at one. Sell your possessions. Cut your hair. Dance to the moon, and see what you want to see. Cry not because you’re weak, but because you’re alive when others are dead. There’s no going back when the soil covers lifeless bones. It’s raining but it doesn’t matter. There’s only beauty. The darkness reigns forever, but this lust for life is eternal. Mountains behind a crushed ribcage. Saliva passing from my mouth to yours. Kiss me because you mean it, not because you’re looking for a reason to starve off admission. Face the facts and be like water. Take my hand, and breath in fantasy. It’s a crooked road. It’s a strange tale, that has no end.