All Words by Devin Pugliano
>Burnt Cinnamon > Cancer is raining outside my window. I see the fetuses begging me to let them in. They're wet and so tempting. But I'm beside that now. I find some lasting pleasure in watching them drown. It seems this layer is becoming unprotective. Burnt to the edges. They are sure to pick me off. Piece by piece. If that window cracks, the flood of cold shoulders will spill through. Certainly, I must morph and metacalm my heart to silence the beats from their ravenous ears. And they feed off of tears. Like some crippling noose ready to tighten around my faith. My faith in chaotic beauty. Watch the river from my memories. And that girl I held in front of me. Kissed by the mist. Tasting natures jealousy. But, nonetheless, those glass children will surely find their key to existence planted somewhere inside of me that I will never know. Let the rain fade away. I want to feel this intoxicated breath ripping through my desolate want for life. I touched the souvenier. Maybe I should have kept it. Or maybe I just shouldn't have slept at all. The dream always surfaces. And sedates my armor. This layer has all but turned to mud. Has all broken these edges. Has all been stolen from me. I release the tears I know I fight. And there is no sign of the rain shifting to another soul tonight. I must close my eyes. So I don't taste the dream. Destiny Cries > It's easier living when the cloud is so comforting.
Baby, I never meant to fade the way I do sometimes.
But my arms are transparent and trembling.
I'll hold you up as long as I can.
But your love is the breaking kind.
Armor my heart for what I'm to travel through.
Armor my eyes for the tears that will surely come because of you.
What can I do?
To show that I'll never apologize for loving you.
Don't stop being you.
Speed so fast that your skin struggles to keep up.
And the way you lay back and barely breathe.
Keeps me curious as to how you sleep.
And what it is that you dream.
And what it is that makes you wake and still long for me.
Don't stop being you.
It's all you know how to do.
Destiny cries.
So let her.
Under moonlight.
What is this weather?
That hides us from the world.
Give up and beat the pain.
Give in and see the same sky.
Everyday we die.
Give up and tease the rain.
Give in and please the game.
Of love.
Of us.
You're gonna cry.
So should I let you?
And wonder without speaking what it was I did wrong?
Or should I hold you close and breathe in the scent of each tear.
A climax of my biggest fear.
Lack of knowing what it is that tremors inside of you.
Or maybe I know the only thing that kills you.
Being you.
The only thing that pains you, love.
Being you.
Destiny cries.
So let her.
You can never calm the storm that flows from her eyes.
Oh, my love.
I wish I could be you. For Lindsey Bell Willow Stench > Lend my hand to the hostile rain. Feel it burn the smiling, choking children that are caught out in the sand. Unwashed unicorns, siamese in fiction. Running fossils of patience through the mud. Gather it up while you can.
