No Mourning Allowed
the day i grew up, was it ever real?
collarbones snapped like sticks of chalk
he flared from within the whorls of teal
on the street, an empty cathedral
and we are only two fish swimming
in the bottom of a bottle of alcohol
i knew a girl who slept in her shadow
the same year i hung myself up to dry
still i remember her eyes like meadows
but don't send me to bed without a song
and if i die, give my clothes to the cold
a flash of feathers, and it was gone
--
I know it's short. I know it's barely coherent. I wrote completely on instinct, imagination and fleeting emotion, not from experience (except lines 10-11). Which is something I've been doing a lot lately.
Oh, and also, I'd like to make a song from this.
collarbones snapped like sticks of chalk
he flared from within the whorls of teal
on the street, an empty cathedral
and we are only two fish swimming
in the bottom of a bottle of alcohol
i knew a girl who slept in her shadow
the same year i hung myself up to dry
still i remember her eyes like meadows
but don't send me to bed without a song
and if i die, give my clothes to the cold
a flash of feathers, and it was gone
--
I know it's short. I know it's barely coherent. I wrote completely on instinct, imagination and fleeting emotion, not from experience (except lines 10-11). Which is something I've been doing a lot lately.
Oh, and also, I'd like to make a song from this.