I'm so tired Of the unequivocal drivel I'm still a victim dear Of the quiet and the rain And the shadow on my doorstep Of guests who never came Arrivals still postponing Bones still drenched in warnings Moaning out Such subliminal agonies Beneath fingers I can't feel Heights I cannot reach Feelings that can't be real Of when I held your hand And practiced in the mirror And what I meant was said And what I said you simply didn't hear Somewhere your sickness chokes me In that i

Violins And out from under Instruments Of droning thunder While I wonder Piling blunders Windows vacant Hungry hollows Vanished or...