I have a small green stone
I place it in a cup
I spoke the words, and still I couldn’t kill the sun
I have three golden threads
kept in a box unseen
and if you think me mad, wait til I speak again…
…”Line?”
‘twas whispers that I sold
to those who sought the truth
I carved the trees with love and I killed my home instead
So yet again I play
in the visage of the day
I’m dressed unready for the performance of a lifetime

I cannot dance away my sorrows like you do
Nor can I face an audience that might perceive me
The sky is…
Blue? Then why am I afraid?
I could undo all this with a swift decision and a pair of sharpened blades.

Morning found me, not my self
sunburned, no strength to fight
the charms of your carcinogenic light
Mourning bound me, blissfully unwell
crawling back to the cave
where mere shadows made more sense to me
I have fallen in love with the lens flare
blinding me so I need not see myself
Why can’t I be alone with my despair?
can’t you see my anguish through the light you shine on me?

I beg you
if you find it in your means
to believe what you have seen and move your heart between the sun and me
‘cause the light is too much
I fed you
not a single lie between
these thinning lines of our reality, but the web’s not what it used to be
follow the threads
closure at the curtain’s fall
rebuild me and paint me red
as an answer to the patron’s call.
Move between the sun and me…