Monday, February 23, 2009



A Song

A Dance

Hold my hand


Close your eyes

Laugh out loud

I'll weave for you

That secret place

A net to catch you in

To fall down

Sleep infinite

Ice Cold

Eyes closed

Mouths Laughing

We'll Laugh at them ~ For asking too much
For believing infantile lies

Laughing with you

Eyes shut for you

For making up our hearts into
Stone cold now
To cool your burning heart.
Ice cold just for you

Bang ~

Laugh with me again

Bang ~

Sing for me one last time

. . . . . Ashes

Little White Lie

Little white spider scaling the wall,
Can i beg your ear for a tale quite tall?

Build me a web and I'll pay you with a fly.
I'll clear out the truth to make room for your lie.

Petite araignée, don't take too long.

Kleine weiße Spinne, spin for my tongue.
There is folds of silk for you to weave.
r will is done, your web they believe.

What a complexity of silk and grace.
from such a small space!
Your beautiful web, my Lite vitspindel,

Is perfect in every form, silver and vile.

What is this a hole in my snare?

It's only a rip as thin as a hair.
I think it's still vicious, my wenig netz.
So I'm throwing it out, place your bets.

I was hoping to be the one to ensnare.
Your web, prédateur minuscule,
Now floats in the air.
I should have repaired the hole in our trap.
For now it will fail us with merely a snap.

What's that you say, kline huntress?
Why do you laugh so high?
You made my web, now i distress
For I have not a single fly.

I must pay you my debt.
For I owe to the Witwer.
The only possession I have left from my lies
Is myself, inside, the life force that dies.

Ich werde die Fliege.
Mi trasformo in nel mosca.
Je deviens la mouche.
I become the fly.

Monday, February 16, 2009

The Road Not Taken...

taking the path that few stay on...
hoping that there's more for you...
hoping you don't become a statistic
promising to make it work...
working to keep that promise