hollywood

a manipulation of words and a spare thirty miutes before my next lecture.




If my heart ceased to beat would you complain, moved across two monopoly places to let you stand.I found another place, maybe one I can stand.
I tried to move on to another day, to a whole new town with whole new ways. Alienate people in my own good way. Isolate myself in my old fashioned way.
I know that starting over is not what life's about. But sometimes my thoughts are so loud I cant hear my mouth.
Tiny broken thoughts, provoked tiny broken ideas; float in atmospheric conditions of uncertain ways.
Opened again, this time they ask my mouth, flesh wounds they strain for silenced hands.
Your breath speaks to me closely as the facial hairs stand to attention and goosebumps sky dive down my only spinal cord.
Not one touch of a hand can make me feel as safe and secure, as that of yours.
Not one flicker of eyes in my direction can warm my insides like yours.
a standardised, operational heart beats, pumping blood to a some times dis functional, but unclouded brain,
but metaphoric heart refuses to beat, banter any further, it starts moving in its very own way.
It moved in a shredded glass motion that shattered all metaphorical limps.
while fleshy ones work unaware of the trauma they beat around in a blood bath of unholy no wins,
A war zone of aching intestines and pretense broken heart.
and i asked kindly,metaphorical heart; please be still.


We lived a life, like it was made for us, and when i got a job, i use to leave for work.
I left you, tangled in the sheets, and on the bus I could have sworn it was all a dream.
and we thought it was good and time to breath, but i made the mistake of looking up, beyond tall trees.
sky accelerates, and the clouds all form a geometric shape.
and it was just going so fast, we forgot to think of the past.
a voice i reorganise, but understand too dearly to hear the words clearly, convinced me it was wrong.
Unconsciously followed a path, only exists is via labyrinth, and that's no sure direction at all.
a time zone only i banter too, as an isolated fragment of a life i tried to forget,
seeks admittion through a back door i forgot existed.
with a key that never should have existed.
masked char actor, is no stranger, not so cold to the touch leads me down a path of dis pair, triumphantly inquires whether i shall ever smile again.
empathy has no home in orphanages and crack houses, and cults and gangs.



and when i said you shouldn't make facts out of opinions, you cried so hard you laughed aloud.
I get claustrophobic, when you get close, and when you stray i hit the roads, stray to another place, a few more shots and I'm sleeping wrapped in somebodies else's skin.
well we all have demons, and we all feed them well, tortured soul, and heavy conscience, i count my sins to my path for a hell.
Damaged mind wonders down daisy chains, and tries to make patterns from blood specks from self mutilation ways.
It almost successfully made a happy home from a memory of frothing fitting bodies hitting the stone wash floor.
and if you are kind enough to imply theres help, ill forget a man close enough to Jesus once washed my hands, and said there is help for sure,
before washing his hands straight off me, and retracting his kind words forever more.
Maybe all other help, will just have to meet me in hell after all..


and when i tried to explain the only certainties, a treaty to our cause;
I whispered like we were in a movie, No one can make the ache stop like that of yours. No one can make me smile like that of you.
No one knows my thoughts, like you. No one can breath hellium into a heavy stone heart, like that of you.
and that Not one other makes me feel as uncertain as you, emotionally orphaned as you, no one makes me feel as angry as you.
and that when we come to blows the airs between us explodes with every vocal shield broken into tiny bubbles in the air,
and if motion could slow for visual excitement we would see the hate often slides with the good.
Now the blows been softened, since the air we breath's our coffin, and i dissolved like sugar in a temperate called indignation.



so i guess this is what grown ups, call , make or break.