i could throw you one more overused and tarnished metaphor.
a feverish jumbled diatribe
about that frozen thought
about that snowy glaze
about that unsteady smirk
that procures a little riot in my mind
but ill slip you a tiny little glance from me
a nothing notion from behind glass walls
in the thought that maybe someday
the rhythm of my blinking will incite a song or two
in the hopes that when my magnetized grasp
latches on to such a coveted sideways smile....
resistance to many, will be my stronghold for the night.
and when night turns bright light
youll be there yet again.
one last exhaustive metaphor, for the chill of your ice-pursed grin.
but first,
trust.
------------------
life is pain, buttercup...anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something.
a feverish jumbled diatribe
about that frozen thought
about that snowy glaze
about that unsteady smirk
that procures a little riot in my mind
but ill slip you a tiny little glance from me
a nothing notion from behind glass walls
in the thought that maybe someday
the rhythm of my blinking will incite a song or two
in the hopes that when my magnetized grasp
latches on to such a coveted sideways smile....
resistance to many, will be my stronghold for the night.
and when night turns bright light
youll be there yet again.
one last exhaustive metaphor, for the chill of your ice-pursed grin.
but first,
trust.
------------------
life is pain, buttercup...anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something.
