Have, hold and shatter.

Your crown of contentment
Slips over your eyes
Blinding you to what is most obvious
Your perfection – so porcelain.

A thousand good pictures of the past
Hover above your ignorant bliss
And your obvious delight in you own reflection
So pretty, so porcelain.

Your fake conscience shelters you from yourself
And you’ve lost yourself in a parody of what you could be
You brag of your battles
But you’re only porcelain.

And you leave me to wonder if it doesn’t shame you
To be what you loathe
So plain
And temporary
So perfectly porcelain.

What I have known and loved, I barely recognise
But you’re the centre of your universe
You are magnificent
And so beautifully porcelain.

Emptiness can be filled
Scars can be ignored
You wouldn’t know the feeling
Porcelain doesn’t rust.

I wish you good luck picking up the pieces
When they break and scatter
I'd have told you to leave before it's too late
How sad that time is now.

And you don't know it yet
Though you will someday
You've forgotten, my friend
That porcelain will break.

It really does makes me sick to my stomach when I think of the oblivion you’re so proud of. Dressed up in the glory of your own complacency, did you really think I’d wait around forever? For you to come and supply me the scraps of your meaningless life?

Daylight.

The cloud moves to a side
And the sun is finally out.
Our laughter slices the tension;
Sharply.

You sit by me
The sky is blue
And your hands are warm;
Again.

The conversation flows
And the fish drowns
Your shoulder, my head;
Finally.

The sun vanishes
I raise my face into the rain
You've disappeared;
Like always.

I sit alone
Basking in what just transpired
And now it’s goodbye;
Again.

Babbles.

I am not,
But I should be.

You were not,
But you could be.

Except if you’re George Clooney, in which case, you are perfect.

The best dreams are the ones you see with your eyes open.

*reads last line*

Good grief.

*dies*

Had to be You.

It's not what you saw.
It's not what I see.

It's not what you want
Or what I need.

It's simply what I am
It's simply what you've become

If it's the fabric of my nightmare
Then it must be the seams of your dreams.

Ending Credits.

A/N: I had a dream. And then this happened. *smirk*

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wonder why you sit and shift uncomfortably there in your own skin.
And it puzzles me as to what it is that makes you squirm so.
I ask myself why you look so desperately uneasy in your aimless attempt to look casual.

But, as is the tradition, I draw a blank…

And I wonder why I sit here and suffocate on the discomfort in this air.
And it baffles me when I think of how I feel like I am in an iron maiden - Every glance of yours another knife digging into my skin.
I ask myself why I choke on words that I long for so terribly to be out in the open.

And yet again my mind remains humiliatingly empty…

The dull click of the door is like another punch in my gut.

There will be more goodbyes.

I know, because there have been so many already.

The picture frame on the wall is as dusty as this liaison and not nearly as empty.

The scent of your cologne still lingers in the heavy air of this room and the ghost of your once real laughter clings to my memory like a spider to a web.

Are we getting closer or are we just getting more lost?
Let's compare scars I'll tell you whose is worse;
Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words..

And in all this mystifying disjointedness, what amazes me most is that you are no longer anything more than a memory.
But how a mere recollection of a name can make you feel like you want to rip your gut right out will never cease to amaze me.

And I know it's easier to leave than to be left behind but I can't help but think - who's who here?

Might be waiting for someone
Might be there for us to see
Might be in need of talking
Might be staring directly at me..

... And I can't help but wonder why you did nothing but sit and shift uncomfortably there in your own skin.

Janie's Got a Gun.

A leopard can change it's spots.




















But underneath it's the same mangy, old cat.




xD