Bleeding Ink

My pen bleeds sorrow,
staining perfect lines with unsteady hands.



All my words arent worth
the trees wasted for my bleeding soul..



When did the crumbling begin?
And when do we collapse?


Im more fucked up then you...

But

my branches are steady
and

my heart still puddles
when you whisper my name.


But who am I
to melt with so many misperfections?


I was always a fool for
the falling rain
and
our feelings have always bled the same...

But London fog
and oceans always lead to open waters.

To many deep ends,
and im fuckin sinking in your whirlwind.


Those damn hurricanes
and you know
I always hated tripping off of storm clouds..

Never enjoyed those grey areas
and the end will start the beginning
but what do I know other
then what is real

like I said

I'm more fucked up then you.


But
my branches are steady
and
my heart still puddles when you whisper my name..

I can stand with my head held high
if it contents the rivers.

I miss the sand
and our open skies
our pipe dreams and busted walls.

There is beauty in shattering,
my heads in the oven ..

please close the fucking door

like I said

I'm more fucked up then you
but my branches are steady and I only break when I bleed ink.