Found these old notes in my phone! Wanted to have a place to put them in case I forgot.
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Sleepy whispers after midnight
Coffee kisses in the morning light
Half-remembered saying goodbye
Half-forgotten if I've told you why this time
But I'll be home again soon.
Didn't ask if you were alright
I just figured that you wouldn't mind
But now I realize that I've been blind
and I don't know why you've been so kind to me
and I'll make it right again soon.
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I've got so many melancholy things that I think
that fly from my head 'fore I put them to ink
but that's just how it goes, I suppose.
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Art is our attempt as humans to communicate the truths that we all intuitively know (or are capable of knowing, if we care to look). We are like a children who haven't fully learned to speak yet. Children experience life just as fully as adults do, for its pains and pleasures, but they don't have the words to explain themselves to adults and be understood. Most people eventually give up trying and resign themselves to being dumbed down and misunderstood.
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You tell me that I'm beautiful
but that's not what I see--
you don't know all the demons
who swarm inside of me.
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You shouldn't trust me
I don't even trust myself.
Feel like a pawn in a
game much larger than I can comprehend
but that don't stop me from trying.
One hand beckons,
the other warns
and I know you hear my siren song
and you know I know that they done wrong--
what did you think you would find here after all?
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Nails become claws now
Mouth becomes maw
You never knew
who I was before.
Heart will not harden
Eyes will not close
I flirt with the darkness
in the hell that I chose.
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