There is a box for an ornate mirror
Lying on the ground
He repairs watches
I lose time
You can be saved
If that's what you want
She wears six inch stilettos in the frost
Decisions decisions
A green sticker stuck to the curb
A devious frown little clown
They measure the widths of me
But they can't size me up
Do you enjoy being sutured
No
I stitch myself up
Black threads
Head threads
Dead threads
All of you running through me
Like poison
A venom
With no antidote
Everybody grows old
If not up
Except me
She whispers in the dark
I am the cherry on the powder cake
Yes my sweet you are
What would I say to you
What would you say to me
If any of this were real
More than a poisonous dream
I feel nothing
The same as you
The apple never falls far from the tree
Ooh apples she claps her hands in glee
How can you find what you want
If you don’t know what you want
She sighs
Why can’t you just stop thinking
Trip fall sink in
Let the powder take you down
Nothing more than a sweet kiss
My love for you
Is more real
Than anything you will ever know
I turn in the sheets
In the stitches and threads
Stuck in the bed
In my head
I know my sweet
I know
Love is high apple pie in the sky hopes
Buried in the dust of another falling day.
