They’re permanent I promise,
I’m permanently not proud.
The feeling I felt for frequency,
was wasted where I wasn’t allowed.

We all want what we want,
and we taste tattered treason,
by beating and breaking our skin,
realizing resentment with no reason.

I am an animal,
afraid and alone,
but you and your methods,
hosted a heavenly home.

I might make myself
look like a loser inside,
but the true testimony of me,
might not make it from my mind.

You see the same settings,
and I perceive prominent people,
but I beat myself and burn brightly,
my superstructure, or so called steeple.

© 2010 The Still Air


Rotation Room

This is the rotation room:
     I'm lost in its attic.
I love it; I hate it,
     I'm just another addict.

A hall to the left,
     columns eagerly wait
beside an endless stairwell;
     each step screams hate.

The room offers me,
     it's broken arms,
as i count each second,
     for the sunrise alarm.

The worlds way of wireing
     the dorms lights
next to the back
     of critical night.

The varnish will tint,
     and tint till noon
as I count each second,
     in the rotation room.

© 2010 The Still Air


moments away


up in    a  loft
alone           but content
remembering  time s
we've left our  love  bent

our playful reenactments
of  puppies, young,   in love
rreeppllaayy in my mind
replay &prove

we're in love witheachother
no matter        the        feet
you                       in new york
i      byalake

 and the moments we spend,
even further away
makes moments together
worth           remembering.


We've furthered the distance
by oh, so much more;
you've crossed the border,
I, above the floor.

I feel like the rope
that holds us together
is gripping at me,
pulling me tighter.

Until you're home.
and I the same,
the rope will grow tighter
and tighter each day.


     How is the city?
A different sight?
     Art on each corner?
the emotions; slight?

     I'm in a situation,
like yours, but different.
     The earth here is art,
and the emotions: content.

     Fancy, you may say,
is your living style
      while you're in the city
and I, in the wild.

     Someday soon,
we'll share the experience,
     touring in the city,
and northern adventure

© 2010 The Still Air


A Read Rose

I found myself a rose,
one to be read.
Made of thin paper,
on it, it said:

This rose is a future,
untouched by the earth,
misinterpreted by mankind
as something already unearth.

It’s leaves were perfect,
so perfect and empty.
The way they curved,
like they all agree.

        Hey you!
Said a man
who clearly saw me
         I like what you got,
    Mind if I see?

The look in his eye,
was daringly friendly.
He must be alright,
what monster could he be?

I let him see,
the rose I found,
hoping quietly,
it would not be passed around.

He took out a pen,
and etched on the rose,
scared me to see,
what this man would compose.

I snatched back my rose
and looked at the words,
of gossip and trends,
things to be heard.

My perfect rose,
was still alright,
just some words,
I guess they were right.

But another man came,
did not even ask,
just took that rose,
right from my grasp

he wrote away,
things, who would care?
But he seemed content,
as he stood there.

He wrote and wrote,
on and on,
I couldn’t believe
how much space was gone.

Fashion? Movies?
Government tax?
Who would read these things?
I couldn’t relax.

My rose was ruined,
and its leaves were dead,
they had no life at all,
just fading instead.

But the top of this rose,
it shone so colourful
it was the least touched,
but it was most influential.

The words of the men,
covered the words of the rose,
but it seemed only a few,
and a new sentence it composed:

This rose is a future
untouched by the earth,
misinterpreted by mankind
as something already unearth.

© 2010 The Still Air

The Wind

The wind takes wings
as  we    fly into it,
never  moving       forward,
not ideal; seems fit.

No       destination
with  our young age.
Although, only height,
there's more   freedom than a     cage.

 This wind will    die,
And we'll  no longer  soar
with  fun&play.
we'll live for less;    for more.

This wind will take wings
as  we   fly with it,
only moving forward,
it's ideal; seems fit.

© 2010 The Still Air


mssing lttrs

in a momnt th mnd wll fll in bl nks
seing thngs tht wer nver thre
som wold fnd this dscovry
wnderng how ths is fair

tht ones mnd cn b so dmb
to fll in smethng tht ws nver thre
wy do we se sch thngs
sch wrng thngs, unfair

i tll yu i’m th sme
nthng shold mke sens
bt ourslvs let thngs hve reasn
bcase reasns our nly sens

reasn fr evrthng
dth, scknss, prblms we list
bt no reasn fr ourslvs
no reasn to exst

so if we dnt mss a mssing lttr
thn hw cn we say
tht we’ll ntice ourslvs 

whn w’ve lst our way

© 2010 The Still Air

just paper.

disconsolate paper sings for someone to
come and write just a simple song. anyo
ne could write, anyone can write and wi
th writing, really, what could go wrong?
i am the paper and i just want some pen
to etch it’s thoughts and write out its am
en. i need someone faithful and true. Ple
ase write this life out. i’m calling to you. 
i’m wiped clean of any possible flaw; i'  
m just a blank piece of paper, why can’t
anybody draw on me, write notes on me

Secret notes, love notes, even hates too.
a drawing of a future. A drawing of truth

. what am i for if no ones to etch on me  
a future, a story, a life amazing and free?
i mean, i really am just a piece of paper. 

© 2010 The Still Air


Heart on a ledge.

an experiment to be read from top to bottom then bottom to top.

as his heart stood on a ledge
if he was given one more chance
he’d step back from the edge
he’d step back to where it started

all the people behind him knew
he couldn’t reach out and touch
leaving everything behind him
he narrowed his path so much

that turning back would be impossible
he realized he was too far to the edge
and he took his deepest breaths as
his heart stood on a ledge

© 2010 The Still Air

It's Septembering

It's   Septembering        outside,
but   only for    a while         longer,
this     I know           for sure,
because     our leaves are growing

The colours
                  are brilliant,
and exceptionally          made;
           In perfect allignment,
You'd think       a painter        was paid.

It's a sight,          for sure,
and a thought      to know,
then the      season of

So i'll make      it          last.
 because the    colours are  lively.
while     it's   Septembering outside
    I'd like you to witness with    me.

© 2010 The Still Air


an ocean and a sea

An ocean holds a sea inside,
while a sea holds in an ocean wide.
What makes this interesting to me,
is that you are an ocean, I am a sea.

Your horizon, spaceless, meets the sky.
The sailing ships will never know why,
the old, dead, lost ships don't haunt,
at least not anymore, you've said what you want.

My sea holds a heart, lights up the depth,
light enough to stop me to confess.
I'll push more waves, with my salt water,
and watch as my sea, appears to grow deeper.

I know what's inside, your love so deep,
You're greater than I, my sea so weak.
So as sails navigate my calm waters,
others look to yours for open adventures.

                    it scares me to see,
                    how much separation there can be
                    between and ocean and a sea.

                               but it works        .

© 2010 The Still Air


the same mess

a bright light
  could      b  re ak
 the     line of someones   sight;
 likewise,           the darkness
could create the same mes
          abird could  call me ,
and i'd feel   the same,
           repossessing  that same  thought,
from   a    childhood day
   my   imagination   has built up for       me
          days  of    grim  stories

compiled into

                                             that's why
                                              i'm not

© 2010 The Still Air


a different colour

It’s        a different col our,
and a     different                 size,
and it caught          my   att entio n,
now  I’m

 This   round  shape  ,
the          proportions  are     odd ,
but    an interesting        sight.

Imperfection      could
mean          something,
a change?   A thought?
Emotive              sting?

Does   it        represent  me
Growing smaller with earth?
Or earth     growing smaller,
as     my     eyes     unearth?

              Is it my mind deciding,
to let go of me?
        Or me deciding,
to just simply see,

            who it is I am
                            am I who it is
                            am I the one
with    the pair      like this         ?

The grey;
               never before,
the size;
               so noticable,
and yet,                       I’ll let it slide,
         I know I’m just unstable.

© 2010 The Still Air

a quiet stillness

Moments can be     m e a s u r e d
in the  measurement of          sound.
For instance;
                      the quiet can scare us,
the way the       nothing     moves        around.

The quiet can be         overwhelming  ,
and at      times a            distraction.
Can      stir  t ho ught s   in a        mind ,
or           stealfrom           interaction.

A certain             loudness can            dwell,
in a                 room                 where we wantitleast,
even with a                        simple melody ,
words; dance.
                        distractions; release.

Finding.              Finding.
exactly           what weneed,
to   let our love                  out,
and to let it be                 freed.

                         It is a quiet stillness
     It is quite        still
and it’s rela xing,      I’m rela xed,
and          I’ll quietly      instill.

My mind is       cle  ar,
a         rarity,    i t seems,
for    a mind that     dances        melodies,
and          sings it’s      dreams           .

An imagination
         high into it’s nest,
where it finds          it’s partner   notsinging,
               just a quiet stillness.

           No fear in the eyes,
              no sign of stress,
       connection between the souls,
                                      in a quiet stillness.

© 2010 The Still Air


thoughts of a sleepness night.

of thisstillness the darkness has blessed me    with.
     of this quietnoise    that makes me   feel        nOt alOne.
    of waking up again       before
                              the light.

 andhere i am.

amusedby      this glass  .
          even when it's             em          pty.
                          it's still got a good weight.

 just like         my evening.

 the sleep          was          em       pty  ,
         but the rest had a         good weight

 but i could've had        sleep.
i could've   had sleep
i could've   had sleep
i could've   had sleep
i could've   had sleep
i could've   had sleep
i could've   had sleep
i could've   had sleep
i could've   had sleep
i could've   had sleep
i could've   had sleep
i could've   had sleep
i could've   had sleep .
                         i did nothing     within
                                          reason to prevent      this .

now i        hes i    tat  e.
        i'm not my    happiest, and when  things go
                                                              wrong ,
                       i'm allowed to    act ,
                   but are          my issues  worth       disturbin disrupting
                                                                            your sleep?

© 2010 The Still Air

nameless .


I want                                            different
                         to be           
                                                       the same
so people will
                                   at least

want                                       know                                name
                          to                                      my

id give
                  give in
                                            to this
             lack                 of
                                              selfforgive ness

and when                   i
i'll be sure
                      to let
                                        you know
rather be

     imust conf ess
                                             i'd rather  staywith you
                nameless               .
© 2010 The Still Air



does the heart that once
beat to the rhythm of mine
still follow strategic measures
in my simple three-four time

does relaxation still take you
deep into a down-scaling trance
that i had placed on you
with a simple touch of hands

i feel your shivers moving
slowly transferring surreal
and i cant help but wonder
what it is you feel

but this glance into your eyes
is the answer thereof
that with these questions comes vindication
that this girl is full of love

© 2010 The Still Air

Burning Bridges

I most        definately can't
but i can            build
                      quite the         ledge

one to dangle my feet
or walk          right off
leave      no one     to                    bother

i did        pushyourlimits
& i pushed them                  far
and our   bridge lit the sky
& fell
         down       hard

takes         many months           just to train
i can't                     do it in your time
& i'd just           burn         it again           .

© 2010 The Still Air


She breaks d aw n,
fixes it back to its        perspective,
I’m so         drawn
to the m i l l i o n pieces of the sky.

      You are my sunset to sunrise
and everything in between.
       The countless stars
are the countless ways you amaze me.

She breaks
                  d ow n,
but somehow her beauty stays                  not to far,
She’s so        renown,
she          shines the moon, this wonderful little star.

      You are my sunset to sunrise
and everything in between.
      The countless stars
are the countless ways you amaze me.

© 2010 The Still Air


The skies decide to closeup ,
And steal away any signs of             blue.
after heatandsunshine,  I   watch clouds       roll in,
Wishing you'd     roll in        with them too.

It will calm,        so will I and I'll see you               soon,
And I have to thank all that
                                           remind me,
as much as I think It's as simple as          this storm,
I realize it's not just rain,
                                       It's an ocean free.

© 2010 The Still Air


You’ve built             your home,
Withstrungwith            beautiful lines   ,
I watchedyou make             your design,

From        place            I'd          my       
           the          where       build      home,
Closetoyou     so you wouldn’t be           alone.

These spiderwebs,
That compose
                       our beds,
I hope someday             wecanshare.

I  watch yourlife,
There’s               no             disguise
I know just            who you are.

I can’t          help but notice,
You won’t be done until the                     snow is,
And I know you’re so          versatile,
So comestay withme  a whi le.

Please        accept this act of             kindness,
Maybe you’ll see what                 love is,
In my home where we won’t be                       alone,
And we can wait 'cause spring might        be postponed.

In      place            I'd         my
    the          where      built        home  ,
Closeto you so you wouldn’t be             alone.

These spiderwebs,
That compose
                       our beds,
I hope someday       wecanshare.

I       watch             your life,
There’s        no          disguise
I know just                who you are.

I hope           you know,
I’m just
And we’re under
           the same moon.

And that              all day         l o n g       ,
I keep it        strong,
In hopes that one day I can invite youin     .

© 2010 The Still Air

the last stamp.

Years of stamp collecting
Made me realize the truth:
That every stamp is perfect,
But should be left unused.

Anytime I tried to dip
The perfect stamp in ink,
The imprint was off balanced,
asymmetrical, out of sync.

Again! Again! Never give in,
Words in ink that I’d replay;
However, it’s hard to say
How much ‘never’ decayed.

I reused the best stamps,
The ones that truly stood out,
‘Till their lines were flat and feckless
And I’d have to learn to live without.

My collection had run dry,
When I separated good from bad
And looked at others piles,
Looked at what they had.

All the things I needed,
To complete my stamp collection.
Everything would come together;
A pattern with direction.

When I thought I’d have no more;
As I looked at my good pile,
Someone stumbled upon me,
Tried to offer me a smile.

He had no words on his lips,
No speech in his cheeks,
But a stamp in his hand,
A stamp so oblique.

Was no fit to my collection,
But was beautifully inlayed;
A rose with perfect shape
Peerlessly weighed.

I dipped the stamp in ink
And placed it on the pad,
But before I could reveal,
The unknown result I had,

I opened up my lips
And my voice had begun,
“This is the last stamp I’ll use,
I pray it’s a good one.”

© 2010 The Still Air

a plane of pad.

Left, right, and center,
as the world folds within,
into symmetrical love letters,
sealed and flown in.

Distance is just a simple phase,
that will disappear tomorrow;
but still I count all the ways,
I can think of you; puts my mind aglow

Fly our notes far away,
High in the atmosphere, across this city.
Our hearts know exactly what to say,
and maybe others could use our serendipity.

But please, please remember,
that luck is not what drives me,
through cold nights of december,
through lonely storms over seas.

I can miss as much as I love,
and I love an awful lot.
but my happiness, or lack of,
Comes from a few mind filled fights.

I know that I'm
waiting for the seasons to change,
Heard of demise,
but we're no where close to that range.

We've still got,
so much love to share,
so lets give all that,
we have in this beautiful affair       .

© 2010 The Still Air


Crashing, thundering music ringing in my head,
Reminds me of words that I never said.
I held them inside like a burning cigarette,
wasting life away till I’m just a silhouette.

It’s late July, I’ll watch butterflies touch the sky.
Excessive impulsions leading compulsions to slight wry.
Standing alone for reasons unknown except for where I am,
The beginning was right, summer would ignite our love, and

Our motion picture would replay all the perfect ocean nights.
Projectors would relay time after time and show our loves prominent heights.
I couldn’t apprehend knowing that you couldn’t amend.
I couldn’t wait to be with you again, in the summers end.

Discreet disconsolate emotion sickness spins my head,
as I fill my lungs and take in the thought, “I’d like to be with you instead.”
And the way the calm shores take me in transgression,
reminds me the constellations fall in perfect congregation.

This time, we’ll align, our hearts like the midnight sky.
The days colours and shapes all escape only because they try.
I couldn’t subsist, now can’t resist persist, I insist we coexist.
We’ve found our fix, without tricks, it’s to hold each other amidst.

Our motion picture will replay all the perfect ocean nights.
Projectors will relay time after time and show our loves prominent heights.
I can apprehend knowing that we can amend.
We’ll be together, through the summers end.

© 2010 The Still Air

i am

I am
        a darkness,
   That somehow lights your heart.
I am
        a mess,
   That cleansed you, gave you a fresh start.

I am
       a noise,
   That brings music to your ears.
I am
   But to you so advanced in years.

I am
       a sadness,
   That brings sudden happiness.
I am
       so found,
   But wish you knew where I was.

I am
       so cold,
   But my warmth surrounds you.
I am
       so certain,
   This love is what we're bound to.

© 2010 The Still Air


what is love?

love is:
         the sense that wakens you.
love is:
          the light that keeps you awake.
love lets:
              you fall, so it can pick you back up.
love is:
         the line between reality and fake.

love is:
          trying and failing together.
love finds:
         our entities and lost fundamentals.
love completes:
           individually for contradistinction.
love mends:
                 your heart's scattered shrapnel.

love is:
          something to anticipate.
love see's:
           what others cannot see.
love is:
            running into trustful arms.
love is:
                 you and me.

© 2010 The Still Air


          Faded faces
          picture places.
The sleepless,
          momentary monsters
          Undisclosed, undercover,
images of
          perfect problems,
          Where? When?
          Unmanful, ungrateful
          Half Hateful
          Minds making,
          Simply shaking,
          Out of Orbit
          Trying to transmit
          All along,
I was
          Simply not strong,
but alone in
          Dark depths,
          Extraction of exhaustion.

 Mind     .

© 2010 The Still Air

Love Was On It's Way

I told myself,
the                  book
                  on the shelf,
meant love was      on      it’s          way.

And even though,
my          scared                                  hello,
brought meclosereveryday.

I’d still have      trou   ble,
as the man who stum
on those words,             “w ill           you             go out      wi th m e?”

I took                the chance,
to tell you          howI         see.

               You may say so.
But I don’t regret               that day.

‘cause with the slightest ease,
and the                                westward breeze,
love was here tostay.

  ilove you.

© 2010 The Still Air


With every cold breath,
With every small wish.
Every walk, every hug,
Every simple, soft kiss.

With every snowflake,
Under the midnight moon.
I’ll hear your voice from miles away.
I’ll be with you soon.

And with every drop, of frozen rain,
And while the world looks so perfect.
Remember, I’ll be with you again.
And let winter become our subject.

© 2010 The Still Air


Daisies whispering in the sunlit field,
the communication bond is quietly revealed,
as is the beauty in each flower,
as they sit there, with each passing hour.

And as time turns, and the leaves fall,
and the daisies remain, all in all.
Their shape their colour remain the same,
and the leaves will return, once again.

The winter will take them by surprise,
as each flower slowly withers and dies.
And the sad array of yellow and white,
will safely sleep under the snow tonight.

As the snow melts, and they arise again,
to feel the warmth of summers sustain,
and to find, after winter, they’re not impaired,
but simply enough, completely prepared.

© 2010 The Still Air


waste away.
sh att eri ng dreams.
where is            my place.
             in history.

Motion less sickness.
                                        wandering soul.
i need something.
to fillthishole.

colourful                brush.
        beautiful heart.
                       that i am the art.

Molding clay.
                   old        de b ri s.
make these pie  ces.
to what ishouldbe.

and fill me
then bleed me             dry.
cause there's only oneway.
to say                               goodnight.

© 2010 The Still Air


I stand alone with my mind,
cause something doesn't seem right.
thinking that day, that hour, that time,
                                                        as the world falls asleep.

memories of unspoken pasts,
nights i don't want to remember.
my minds state of harass,
                                                        as the world lay asleep.

And we were nothing before,
and i don't remember what i saw,
but it's a thought i can't ignore,
                                                        as the world dreams asleep.

and as i dream awake,
i forgive, but i can't forget,
i suppose it's my mistake,
                                                        as I lay awake.

I know there is someone out there,
one who answers every question.
one who's awake and emits prayer.
                                                        are you laying awake?

© 2010 The Still Air


these midnight noises are                melodies and       songs,
but they're not the               ones i rely on.
the fact that               ijust assume,
that       i'm not                      alone                    inthisroom.
is the only reason           why i'm still            awake,
and the                only reason                  istillache.
For         things that happened so                                           long ago,
i wonder          why my hearts still               aglow.
i see these people                     no differently,
i'm fixed on only          you&me.

© 2010 The Still Air


Re-occuring verses on paper with ink.
everyone is ahead, but you and I are out of sync.
reading over the things that matter most.
Because our love is an ocean, we won't reach the coast.
This book has over a thousand pages,
hoping our words won't end in different ages.
and laughing at what happens now,
but hiding the fact, our book ends somehow.
unknown facts about the end,
testing our boundaries and how we bend.
chapter after chapter, page after page.
We're seeing the signs, we're seeing the rage
and our short stories are of how we submit.
and that's why we're still in the middle of it.

© 2010 The Still Air


Saying last goodbyes,
screaming oaths and lullaby’s.
wondering what life’s for,
with these stories and rumors of war.

The crushed, tightly packed flowers,
underneath the lifeless soldiers.
As they tell them to implore,
into useless reasons for war.

As he’s called back into line,
the shivers run along his spine.
Has his moment come to no more?
Will he die a hero of war?

Blood stained jackets on the ground,
something so incredible would leave no sound,
they all fall down, these men where adored,
but claimed on the beaches of war.

Where is the freedom?
Buried in columns?
How could we possibly ignore,
all these stories and rumors of war.

© 2010 The Still Air


So perfectly aligned,
like I’ve never seen before,
so intertwined,
the colours and the shapes.

I’ve never seen something corresponding,
with such a vary of lively things,
or something so responding,
these colours and shapes.

And with the simple breath they were given,
they can be free with all potential,
but this complex world they live in,
reducing the colours and the shapes.

Although living amongst the rest,
even if you don’t notice it,
I looked for, only the best,
in the colours and the shapes.

What was it I saw?
I don’t even know,
whatever it was, it left me in awe,
the colours and the shapes.

© 2010 The Still Air


I can be so lost in myself,
That I don’t know what I’m thinking,
And when I’m all caught up in my own world,
I start wishing.

For my lights and doors to be opened,
But my secrets become more hidden,
Than ever before,
I’m starting to lose, the things I was given.

Can you be someone for me?
Can you be what I need?
Can you be subtle in the way you move?
Can we be solemn in where we plant our feet?

© 2010 The Still Air


planting feet on firm foundation,
where i stand is solid plantation,
but i find now, i've no explanation,
I'm hiding all of my frustration,
inbetween cracks of fake elation,
cause now, I learn, i'm a creation,
finding my way to a new location,
I can't live up to expectations,
i'm just my own personification,
learning through infatuation.
Discovering the horrors of imagination,
finding it's only collaboration,
of my mind and fear of my desperation,
cause what i'm going through, you've no relation,
I've stormed the beaches of compassion,
hearing voices and screaming vibrations,
I'm trying so hard, to run from temptation,
but only finding more cheap sensations.
Sometimes my mind will take a vacation,
from scared to alone, then back to hesitation,
and i stutter my words, in my own deprivation,
but i'm finding peace in salvation.
being one with someone, allows integration,
back to health,
cause the only discrimination,
is from me to myself.

© 2010 The Still Air


                                  I've got my life built on phobias,
you've got yours up on a carousel.
                                  my story stays hidden, cause it's scared of answers,
while yours only looks for an answer to dwell.

                                     I try to wear my heart on my sleeve,
but somehow, you're already there.
                                     and although life isn't hard for me,
              we're both in need of repair.

Your crying breaks off a piece of me,
                                      as my heart falls under attack,
                                      and having the chance to hold you up,
                                      well, that just puts that piece back.

                  If life's full of ignorance, and echoed replies,
                  that we realize are only our own,
                  then why don't we hold onto each other,

                                                  so love won't be postponed?

© 2010 The Still Air


are these muffled crIes,
 and stupId lullaby’s,
enough just to get by
 your sore, dIsconsolate heart?

             i am


Is your Inconsolable heart,
 rememberIng depart?
Is It mIssIng a part?
 or Is It mIssIng out?

               i am


Is there somethIng InsIde,
 that scares away your butterflIes?
that takes all your prIde?
 that turns your lIt heart to dawn?

 i am


waIting for a tIme where doors are opened?
 when you can depend,
on someone as close as a frIend?
 or just for someone’s heart?

                             tell me,
       when i am left between
                                  four symmetrical walls,
someone like me is no longer
            struck by calls?

makes me wonder...

                 god put,
   everything around me,
                     and called me his own,
and the things as useless to me
       as a telephone,

make me wonder...

               wonder why,
          i was put on this earth
 with everyone else,
yet i am seeing no signs
                                of the slightest pulse,

so why am i alive?

                do i sit talking to walls
   when i should be talking with someone?
                do i stand in awe of others talent,
   when i am merely as talented as them?
                do i dread life’s failures,
   when i should be learning from them?
                when i am given something wonderful,
     i simply let it drift away?
                                   do i do the things I do,
           when i am the one who hates them?
             does my mind wander,
          when the path is right in front?

                                                              i am learning that life,
                                       is not good enough for all of us,
                             but, for me, the only strife,
          is between me and a wall.

                           So a glimpse to my future.


© 2010 The Still Air


Help, a word commonly used when one is troubled,
But my trouble won't stop, and help isn't the word I would've used.
I think just a few more drinks, I'll be fine... I'll be fine even when I've stumbled.
I feel them at my back, laughing, God, Why are they so amused?

love... Love? well, I never new real love.
True I had her every now and again. It was just her to myself
but she.. she seemed so... so proud of,
so damn proud of herself.

And the chemicals. Yes! The depressants,
Thank God for the narcotics that filled my breath.
who knew such wonderful things could come from plants,
and... and... fuck, I can see my death.

I was drunk at the wheel, summer of 08.
They said "get a taxi", but I was out of my mind.
If they had just helped instead letting me take the wheel of fate...
It's not my fault, right? cause something tells me it is... something inside

I lay here now... alone, but alive.
I'll cling onto life, no matter what's happened.
I know... I know I should've, could've strived,
but, lets face it, we all get distracted.

So as I lie here on my bedroom floor, tears...
tears across my face and scars on my arms,
I'm confused, and I doubted you for years.
but you... you can take me from worlds reach... from the worlds harm.

Help, it's hard enough just to think I'm alive...

© 2010 The Still Air


If life is not worth                       living,
then why are           we still here?
From lifeanddeath we're                           hiding,
underneath our

And if life is not worth               undertaking,
then why do          we still care?
Forgetting       almost                          everything,
and tossing it in the

And if life cannot be comp   lete,
then why do I      feelthisway?
about all the times                   we'll meet.
and all                the words we'll say.

And if I was put on this
was it to be                    nexttoyou?
The fire inside,
                      brought up from birth,
tell me,                                       can you see it too?

But if it was                               all coincidence,
then why should it happen to                             me?
May I say,                         if it's not pretense,
then clearly, i can't see?

                    If it takes a heart to find a heart,
would you let it die?
                   Would you save me, or do your part,
If I fell down tonight?

© 2010 The Still Air