bring life back home

put the fire out inside me.
please stop this burning sensation.
please rem ve ev ry th ught.
give me slight desire for                   segregation.

heal the burns,            clot the wounds.
      rem ve       the          sc rs.
give me peace.        give me rest.
   take away the                              dark.

bring life back home .


© 2011 the still air

Hide in the light

Sometimes just the fact,
That facts turn into reasons,
Becomes reasons to hide,
Hide from the seasons.

And sometimes the world,
Causes our world to tremble,
Trembling in firery fear,
And the fear to disassemble.

So sometimes it's ok,
To not be ok in the night,
Because night time brings darkness,
And darkness finds we hide in the light,

When it comes around.

© 2011 The Still Air

If only I wouldn't miss you

If only i wouldn't miss you, 

It would be so easy to dream constantly for weeks.

It would be so easy to disregard what life is.

It would be so easy to just disappear

And then reappear in silence.

If only i wouldn't miss you,

It would be so simple to slip away,

It would be so simple to let myself fall,

It would be so simple to let go of the railing

And catch on at the last second.

I would miss you,

It's not easy to dream at all, because you're so real,

It's not easy to think for a minute that i'm minuscule,

And it's not easy to know that leaving would mean leaving you,

And that's something i'm not willing to do.

I still can't wait to reach my home in the sand,

But i'm happy enough living in my home with you.

© 2011 The Still Air

When lost at sea

location isn't key,
when you're lost at sea,
it's not the first thing to come to mind,
nor is the time.
You simply feel your way through
without fear of whats in front of you,
and in the moment of despair,
you'll remember you're still here.
No matter which way you steer,
you'll eventually come near,

the shore.


© 2011 The Still Air

The Train

A thought train leaving a station
appears to be heading to the little town of reasoning
instead of the city of facts.
Neither is more pleasing.

The train scheduled to leave at a quarter after four
reminds me that there is no rush this quiet morning.
reminds me that there are no more facts.
reminds me that everyone's thoughts shut down in the evening,

while mine just started its engine.
I fed it. I gave it coal.
and this reasoning that i should hate,
lacks all control.

and having no control,
                  just happens to be something I love.


© 2011 The Still Air

Wake up

Wake up, wake up,
Youre wasting somuchtime.
Theres a world to hide from
When youre less than fine.
Slow down, slow down
And make the clock count
Spend time on what you know
Because falling asleep is barely an amount.
Slow down. Youre getting older.
Wake up. Sleep is a crime.
Slow down. The hands of the clock wont do it for you.
Wake up.
Sleep is a waste of time.


© 2011 The Still Air

waking to lime light.

Chasing the wake
 catching the shoreline
leaving a dream
 to find the time
everchanging so slowly
 hands moving with a slight
sense of actual time
 under the lime light.


© 2011 The Still Air

the trembling.

fear grips
as i
fumble for
the light.

im reminded
that there
is nothing
in the
nothingness of
the night
but i
feel the
nothingness stare.

the senses
fall victim
to the
fear gripping
at all
of them.

then they
are flooded
by a
sudden sense
of relief
as the
shadows are
sent to
smaller corners
of the
dark-less room.

where can
the victims
hide in
this room?

under the
only light.

and now
that the
fumbled light
has broken

the fear
grips my
back again
as the
eyes wander
to places
i don't
want them
to ever
wander again
but they
see this
every night.

fear gripping
my field
of vision.

fear gripping
my back.

the door
shuts and
the fear
disperses behind
me but
i know
it's still
there hiding
from me
as i
hide from
it again.

behind that
door is
the fear.

inside this
room is
the trembling.


© 2010 The Still Air

A heart stained white

White  w as a    difference,
and   now   i ncorpor ated
in t he   w heel  of   things
to   be    inter p ret ed

                    a s ;

worried
heart
ignoring
the
events.

i d  on't   surrender.  even if      i 'm  s tai ned w hite  .


© 2010 The Still Air

feers

When the darkness       comes,
I hide            inthe  light
Afraid  of     the shadow      progressions
Of the        night.

When     the storm       rains 
                           down,
I hide                   under       shelter,
Afraid o f        lights in     the     sky,
That           make  medeter.

When                        the tide comes to close,
I hide  where I find            height,
To  avoid even the     slight chance,
Of being pulled
                         under tonight.

When the stars don’t shine,
I  watch  the   blackened       night,
Wait   for that                 sunrise to roll in,
I know the sun will still shine bright.

Even if it’s cloudy.


© 2010 The Still Air

the fever

It's     really all          a game,
Where I don't             win or lose.
I'm more    of just the         observation,
With a    confused        FUSE.

In a  moment,   from    spiking,
To  the moment of        looow,
I'm      afraid of my mind,
And the places it will       go.

I'll sacrifice the         hours,
  In an        attempt  for  warm,
Under my   cold   sea of     blankets,
In      this   eye   of    the   minds  storm.

It's a matter     of        time,
Until   the   clock  finalizes,
And    inthat  matter of time,
All   I'll  realize    is

i like   feeling alive  .

© 2010 The Still Air

who is the darkness?

It consumes the            air
it is the                         air
it takes the                   air
the darkness                air

I fumble for a                switch
in a panic the                switch
becomes a panic          switch
rather than a light          switch

I'm not                        alone
the darkness is            alone
but it makes me not     alone
It consumes me           alone

and I was                   alive
ready to be                 alive
the darkness is not      alive

      who is the    darkness?

© 2010 The Still Air

It followed me here

the sound
a leef
         falling
or unsettling
darkness cawling.

 i cant deetect
  wont let eyes adjust
id keep this unknown
          but i haf to know... i must.

ill stare and ill stare
and stare and stare and stare and stare
till  breething   quickens
and  my emotions scare

cause  i heard it behind
   and it creeeeped   slow
straight     beside me
and  where my feet must   go.

and now       that im back
its  silent.    its neer.
this blackness, im afrraaide
has              followed            me                  here.

© 2010 The Still Air

an edge

that tiniest piece,
                that pushes people off the edge,
i'm seeing it,
                form with me on the ledge.

you could say,
                 i'm frightened, nonetheless,
but i'm not afraid to,
                 stand out and confess.

so if you wind up,
                 passing me on the street,
give me a push,
                 see if I stand on my feet.

© 2010 The Still Air

before this

              It makes          Noise
me wander                            destroys the
               from just        simple life
a bother makes you fall
   turning thoughts         into melodies
from one lie causing alone
        into another         and another
and I watch being
 until silence         doesn’t exist
grabs a hold and you can’t
       and you can’t         seem to remember
help, even                               yourself or
          if there was         any other point
any way to help to living
                  before         this
I stager off into broken life.
    thin air.

© 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

the same mess

a bright light
  could      b  re ak
 the     line of someones   sight;
 likewise,           the darkness
could create the same mes
                                        s
          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
               one
         evening

                                             that's why
                                              i'm not
                                                   sle
                                                      ep
                                                             ing

© 2010 The Still Air

midnight.

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

Wars.

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

Subtle.

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