[Verse 1: Henry Lin]
The rain last night, rocking to sleep
A lullaby beat, cleaning out the scum of the streets
A miserable streetlamp with his head hung low
Thinking quietly, tentative and still unsure
So much pain untold, barbiturate, Monroe's faded smile and thinking back after it unfolds
The warmth of my coat, her cold shoulder, the clear scent of rain caressing her perfumed aroma
Struck like the trauma of a soldier, or a boxer with no one in his corner
Stories of the immigrant's voyage is poignant, abandon everything important, juggling employment
Struggle in avoidance for the troubling discordance, falling short of perfect but I'd never want to disappoint them
Attempt to drown it all with poison, but learning sorrows are buoyant
Her sadistic enjoyment, brought back up in gastric acid, esophagus de-composing a romantic ballad
Collage of fragments on the canvas, the blankness, numbingly captured in the callused stanzas
Drifting apart on tangents, the absence accompanied by ostinato of the insanity canon
Missing in action, once an amorous silence
Ringing membranes, dampening the ambulance sirens
Curtail fate; premonitions of a derailed monorail on its frail frame, excruciating wail brakes
A fatal cage, veil the stale taste before a hail watch the chaos, hand cupping a stoic pale flame
Carriages detached, so was I
Coloring your tone, suddenly surprised
The translucent tears, blinded, an indigo to orange gradient wash above the horizon
Happy days evaporate like mist in the alleyway
Laughter framed by red lipstick on fancy dates
Agony subtly hidden in peripherals, a poet transcending the figurative and the literal
Watch residual affection torment the victim, sipping a half empty gla** of optimism
The winter sun on the feather adrift
I'll see you when the next semester begins