where is your lover?

"you have no worth;
you're no good;
it'd be better to break free
where they wouldn't have to be
troubled for you,
a little woman everyone loves.
where is your lover?
where is your man?
can you understand
that they all cared, compared,
and left you high and dry,
up on the furthest branch
where no one sees you,
loved and left.
why don't you end it now?
who could be but relieved,
o little woman high and dry.
they might be sad, maybe cry
but the burden of caring would be lifted,
the day you die."

i hear the devil
feeding me a pack of lies
i hear the confusion,
and it's no suprise
my jealous lover's fighting back
and smothering my sobbing
during this lengthy attack
in the valley of shadows,
tipping to the fathomed hell
my color's giving to a lifeless gray.
those sweethearts, they tell
me a thousand rosey compliments
of fifteen years' exhaustion
and i cry into the night, the cloudless night,
because i have so much
and nothing seems right.

a strapped love song

the ones who have
say they're anxious:
they've got a lover
but they miss being free.

the fairy tale merged with fantasy
when reality didn't make it one time
you can strap into a dream
and settle into your covers
in that bed you make,
wake up with a stranger.
you can live in reality,
swallowing truth with your tears
and existing.

there could be someone beside you
but you've never been so estranged
from your heart, your beating heart
to be loved and heard from the fathoms
of all of me, take all of me.

a single person cannot give all
which is needed for a happy heart,
a contented spirit in the dead of winter
in the loneliness of a crowded life.
and yet so many play the game,
making it by with their heads down
saying what's familiar is my comfort,
what more can there be,
for i'm not alone and at least someone's home
to while away these days with me.

apart from this dying world

i close the door and lock the window:
i lie to them;
i die within,
but my mind imagines
who would find this petite woman
strewn and lifeless,
a pretty wretch
who lived to love
and died convinced she was alone.

o, the persuasion took time;
the isolation waxed and waned;
anorexia, bulimia, nervosa nervosa:
eat and don't,
believe and won't,
won't ask for help, won't let someone care
afterall who was there
when i pushed them all away?
run miles, bike more
obsess yourself to skinny:
hurt, cry quietly.

there is no hope, though i've known it.
i've felt your prescence
even in my pity.
batter my heart, o three-personed god
and tell me why i am;
the world is going to hell
and i am deserve the same as well.
why did you make me pretty
and why did you make me kind?
did you have something precious on your mind?
meant to traverse like a nomad,
loving much and dropping sandbags
until i know, i know
i am ascending in understanding
apart from this dying world,
seeking the countenance of your face.