I sit here in this room,
surrounded by white walls,
white sheets,
white window slats,
covered in BLACK,
we shine as stars in your galaxy…
I want to remember us in this timeless frame,
the soul of your eyes,
the felt of your skin,
the pitch of your voice,
the beat of your heart…
Yes…
let’s not break this frame.
I don’t want to leave these walls,
this room,
your grasp,
you.
Don’t you dare turn on the lights…
Leave the blinds drawn shut,
as we drift off in your galaxy for the night.
someone asked me if i was psychic because i when i say things will happen in my life they come to pass. i doubt i’m psychic. i make things happen because when i go to sleep at night, instead of letting my dreams fade away as i awake, i grab hold of them and bring them center-fold into my reality.
-sham
painted facade with fading colors…
this isn’t real
it doesn’t pinch skin,
leaving bruises.
no angst,
these are just illusions.
your lies are truths,
words, bond.
lips, confined to one…
tainted allure of gray shades…