Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Pillow Cases Stuffed With Slumber

losing touch with reality, falling in love with the quality.
i'm not sure i was ever really here.
catching moments in the flashing lights, trying hard not to fight.
do you notice that when we speak, we don't ever really hear.
catching all the undertones, of all the mixed match monotones.
i want to leave this place with you right now.
tell me something magical, so you and i can not grow old
but if we must, let's try and do it together.
paint my lips a violent red,
kiss you upon your forehead,
leave a mark so i can find you later.
losing touch with reality, falling in love with quality,
forget all that stuff about quantity, theres to much at stake.
pour me another, or four.
tell me everything you adore, our list you to be so
similar, now they are locked away and hidden,
you quiver.
at the notion.
that something more is happening.
your eyes say more then your lips.
your lips i want to kiss.
i am lost in passages of something more.
things ive written and things ive destroyed.
it's a half past ten and i am no where to be found,
lost in my head.
hearing everything but sound.
the muffled things you spoke into covers,
pillow cases stuff with everything but slumber.

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