Blast from the Past (Pt.1)

Criminally beamish / repulsively dreamish / another kind of greenish.

There are so many things I
wish

I will not live long enough
to pay full-prize for.

Mute cries filling that deafening silence, my eyes has never seen this much
crying before

the skies never felt this distanced or
sighs piling this high, I’ve got whys covering the
bruises

but not enough excuses for the hovering lies.

In a fight between myself & me
I always win

for better & worse

sin-buying, new-time
-trying

& hard-time-
identifying

just never not denying that
I:

a) haven’t got a clue &

b) don’t even know you.

Yeah, I was a mess even before it
got trendy

to confess to it.

(Just ask my past

if you don’t
believe me, three things I’ll always be
about:

contrast, coffee &

colourfast burnouts. )

I’m the queen of lying
straight to your face

got bookcase after
bookcase of categorized
late-night-stories

believe-me-device &
tainted
territories

water proof real-me-disguise

but you won’t ever be able to
tell because

overcasted & bypassed

my lies last.

Be my waste of time, I’ll talk to you in
rhyme

we’ll be partners in crime

& pantomime love when words seem
too hard to

not get tired of.