starlitemilk

Most of the time I'm always in a hurry,
But I never slow down to make sense of what for.
Magicians do tricks to appease the public,
But mostly we find humor in everyday disasters.
And sometimes it's been like dragging around a broken leg,
When I'm trying to fit it all in.
At the end of the day there's no one on my side,
But I'll be thinkin it could be beautiful,
As she, crying many tears, often might concur.
The moon sets low, and I'm racing easy...
Underneath the Wisconsin sky.
The season of the witch is nothing more than
Vitamins for my favourite cinnamon Venus.
She who speaks in vain,
She who knows my name.
My August Andromeda,
Who might someday take me by the hand.
I'll bite my tongue and remember slight fragments,
A mother who once knew me as a golden daughter
The one and only daughter,
Foolish not to speak.
Words escaping my mouth,
Shaped of M, held by Q.
I sit a forgotten flower beneath the aubergine horizons
I'd like to sit and romanticize the solitary life,
But I've been defeated by my own prophecies.
Theres time to be killed and pasts to be longed for,
The nostalgic melancholy to fill our souls like a forbidden fruit.
It's like your wife when she's givin you her charcoal smile,
And you forgive her with one shot of Bourbon.
It's like your sister when she's stained her mouth with blackberries,
And you love her as she runs away with all the charms...
That once you posessed.
And we only have the time as we slumber,
We wake up with the kiss of the moon sunken under the skin of our eyes.
Dreams keep rolling through,
I envision the lovliest of structures.
Structures that could only have been created by a goddess on speed.
A goddess in a hurry,
Who never quite had the time to make sense of what for.