Dress Warm. Sleep Close.

A mix of snow and ice is falling back home. A bitter sweet distraction for the holidays. A perfect chance for silhouette smiles and portrait photographs.

Watched the world pass out at my finger tips. Now I stare at veins bleeding with apathy... counting on the wonder ahead.

What is love if you wouldn't drive through the night just to get back to it? Without you I am just another kid flickering out in the dark.

I still love everything about you that hurts, and the way that it is so warm at the bottom. You're like the songs I wish I heard first. I'm living for dreams that I can't quite remember, but I'll never forget missing you. Smile and lock it away.

On The Comeback

When I was young I was positive that I was from another planet. I felt as if I had been sent here from another world... only for some reason I had forgotten my mission. I had forgotten how to call home, only to realize that I was just as normal as the kids around me.

Now with the whole world at my feet I find myself at times struggling to find the right words to say. It feels the same. All of this just serves as a reminder to put home on speed dial.

Paradiso Perduto

The keyboard needs my fingers but I'm in need of these words a little more. Cutting days short because there are dreams that I need to have. Cutting nights short because there are days that I need to live.

Hallways and stair cases. Scenes for things to regret. It's way too late tonight to be locked inside myself. Lately free time becomes borrowed time.. becomes I don't have enough of it anyway.

There's a VIP line across my wrist to get into the club. A type of backstage pass to how this feels. A life where the girls wear venus fly trap smiles and the boys wring their necks out to dry. Sometimes a forewarning can become the halo over your head. But I'm more the pitchfork and red cape kind of guy. I'm a foul ball through the windshield of a parked car. Hit and run baby. Hit and run.

Rain Soaked Runways

When a poorly stitched heart bursts at the seams do you blame the designer or the recipient?

Some people use truth like Spackle. Just covering up holes in their stories to make them appear all the more original. I'd rather gut the whole place and start from scratch at times. This is one of them.

Those are just reasons rolling down your cheek sweetheart. Run with them. There has never been a better time to close your eyes, walk around in slow motion, and act like you own the place.

I Feel Like An All Night Drive

Your copy of Mencken's Chrestomathy has my muscles in knots. It's as if I'm a charlie horse... don't bet on me... but don't put me down. Let's always be the inside of outsiders.

We reconnected when our eyes matched the sky. Funny how we seem to fall apart at any other time. It's like the way that people forget that the romance in Paris can still be tragic, and that even Willy Loman died in vain.

I guess our heads are like traps more than anything else. A halo around your head, and you around my arms. I'm still a lonely circuit not even sure if I wanna be plugged back in. Blue veins admiring blue moods. Your fingers are hospital beds. A healing touch reversing a train wreck.

You're the world's first secret. The headline behind all the flashing lights making my head spin.

Oh What's That Lucy? A Football For Me To Kick?

A crescent moon in my southern most window. The time has moved from faster to slower in this "daylights saving." I'm no longer swimming across an ocean like it's the mattress in my basement. I've been stuffed with anxiety. Unleashed in the form of bad dreams. Maybe I'll just start a war for the taste of my own blood.

It's late, and I'm sweating out excuses that would only make your stomach turn. I'd give it all away to make mine do the same. Let's get even.

Just like water takes the shape of where it is held. I was always just a boy until someone yelled "let's get this Man to a hospital." In the haze of a car crash the orange airbag dust covers everything... except what has not been said.

The wolf in sheep's clothing is dancing, while all of the sheep are clapping. Save a kiss for a full moon. The end of the month will mean so much more than airwaves and holidays.

The Give Up Artist

All of the going back and forth between airports and heartbeats left him wishing for more than love one night at a time. He was so far from content, coming alive between her sheets and the pauses of breath.

The fog was thick but the tension never was. Making excuses instead of making moves was his home life then.

Dull and boring like the world he was slowly losing grasp of. Becoming another corpse in a funeral procession. He wanted to run a red light just to see the look on everyone else's face and erase their conclusions.