low water bridges
The low water bridges are flooded again
No buses, no schools
The gray settles on this small town
Walls of a prison closing in
Dead men walking
They play house too
Like we do
They were selling pieces of heaven on a day like this
Not so long ago
We stood in the rain pretending it was something
(Romance, a pretty fabrication)
Impetuous, counting drops on our skin
That was before it started to sink in
With a sad smile you whispered words
That I cannot recall
Only the feeling, the weight of them against my ear
Remains
But I remember how it was once
You lay your head on my shoulder
Everything was real
Or seemed so against that sky
Wanting, needing so much
But reality grew cold
As the sky seeped into our pores
Bloating our veins
Full saturation leaving no room for warmth
The gray settles down a heavy cloth
Not quite the quilt
Where we’d wish to hide
More like a wet glove
It clings, it won’t be shaken off
Sapping out of you everything
Warm
I watch you stare out the window on this day
Praying for something
Maybe an end to the deluge
A receding of the water off the bridges
Knowing as I watch you
Inhale exhale ambivalence
There are parts of you that I cannot touch
Because of your own saturation
From days like this not so long ago
No longer absorbing the things I offer you
You can’t shake it long enough to let me in
(They were selling pieces of heaven or maybe just an invitation
Inundation
Of something
Anything, antithesis to this
Something to believe in
The quilt stitched together by common love
But we’re so far removed from that now
Fingers are careless
And worn brittle and cold)
There are places inside of you that I’ve never even seen
I wish to know them but I’m not sure I could
Steer through the flood sometimes
Or maybe I just fear the cold
Dead men walking all around
They play house too
Like we do
Come over to my house I’ll tend to you solo
The hunger isn’t for substance
Just a need to erase
The inky distance between our bodies
Shadows are heavy on the fearful mind
Send us dissolution in body heat
In the tomb of night you console me
Filling that void momentarily
It’s cheap filler
Raw and ragged, not the answer
But it gives us something to drown in
Besides the gray
(Boiling over, escaping steam)
Long drags, hot ashes
Flicked out by the rain
The low water bridges are flooded again
This town is our prison
Bloated bodies playing house
Like we do
Staring out solitary windows
Looking for our piece of heaven
Wondering if we could cut through the gray
And come out the other side
Before everything erodes away
No buses, no schools
The gray settles on this small town
Walls of a prison closing in
Dead men walking
They play house too
Like we do
They were selling pieces of heaven on a day like this
Not so long ago
We stood in the rain pretending it was something
(Romance, a pretty fabrication)
Impetuous, counting drops on our skin
That was before it started to sink in
With a sad smile you whispered words
That I cannot recall
Only the feeling, the weight of them against my ear
Remains
But I remember how it was once
You lay your head on my shoulder
Everything was real
Or seemed so against that sky
Wanting, needing so much
But reality grew cold
As the sky seeped into our pores
Bloating our veins
Full saturation leaving no room for warmth
The gray settles down a heavy cloth
Not quite the quilt
Where we’d wish to hide
More like a wet glove
It clings, it won’t be shaken off
Sapping out of you everything
Warm
I watch you stare out the window on this day
Praying for something
Maybe an end to the deluge
A receding of the water off the bridges
Knowing as I watch you
Inhale exhale ambivalence
There are parts of you that I cannot touch
Because of your own saturation
From days like this not so long ago
No longer absorbing the things I offer you
You can’t shake it long enough to let me in
(They were selling pieces of heaven or maybe just an invitation
Inundation
Of something
Anything, antithesis to this
Something to believe in
The quilt stitched together by common love
But we’re so far removed from that now
Fingers are careless
And worn brittle and cold)
There are places inside of you that I’ve never even seen
I wish to know them but I’m not sure I could
Steer through the flood sometimes
Or maybe I just fear the cold
Dead men walking all around
They play house too
Like we do
Come over to my house I’ll tend to you solo
The hunger isn’t for substance
Just a need to erase
The inky distance between our bodies
Shadows are heavy on the fearful mind
Send us dissolution in body heat
In the tomb of night you console me
Filling that void momentarily
It’s cheap filler
Raw and ragged, not the answer
But it gives us something to drown in
Besides the gray
(Boiling over, escaping steam)
Long drags, hot ashes
Flicked out by the rain
The low water bridges are flooded again
This town is our prison
Bloated bodies playing house
Like we do
Staring out solitary windows
Looking for our piece of heaven
Wondering if we could cut through the gray
And come out the other side
Before everything erodes away