The Chalk Outline
The Chalk Outline
Sleeping on a dead man's mattress
Dreaming of a man in drag
Hung
With cut strings
Rolling back into oblivion
The sour notes of sacrilege
Ringing in my ears
A House of Flies and a Welcome Home
The stroke of my skin
An expression waiting to begin
Building to a crescendo
Amounting to an emotion
I am striving to reach a level of awareness I have yet to comprehend
There is a sensation in me I cannot understand
A coat of ice
And the destruction of my future
My own little corner
A haven where I have been shuttled and locked away
My portal waits
With visions dancing at my arrival
I am on the inside
Sleep is kept at bay for an eternity while my creativity storms free on a quest for the hope I know I’ve lost
But all my inspiration builds to desperation and strays about in a ungainly waste of effort
And for all I have accomplished I have nothing to show
A thousand trees
Cut to a million planks
And burning in the sunrise
Lying on the ceiling
Staring at the floor
The spirits of the past
Are waiting beyond the veil
Standing at my door
My fear of proximity has left me bare
And as I long for normality
I start to care
Sleeping on a dead man's mattress
Dreaming of a man in drag
Hung
With cut strings
Rolling back into oblivion
The sour notes of sacrilege
Ringing in my ears
A House of Flies and a Welcome Home
The stroke of my skin
An expression waiting to begin
Building to a crescendo
Amounting to an emotion
I am striving to reach a level of awareness I have yet to comprehend
There is a sensation in me I cannot understand
A coat of ice
And the destruction of my future
My own little corner
A haven where I have been shuttled and locked away
My portal waits
With visions dancing at my arrival
I am on the inside
Sleep is kept at bay for an eternity while my creativity storms free on a quest for the hope I know I’ve lost
But all my inspiration builds to desperation and strays about in a ungainly waste of effort
And for all I have accomplished I have nothing to show
A thousand trees
Cut to a million planks
And burning in the sunrise
Lying on the ceiling
Staring at the floor
The spirits of the past
Are waiting beyond the veil
Standing at my door
My fear of proximity has left me bare
And as I long for normality
I start to care
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