surface tension

you are something, something, something
wandering the mind as if it’s a hotel made of finches:
the architecture of mazes built to watch the world
crack, crackle and burn

(welcome home, darling,
you’re the first guest that this labyrinth
has seen in quite a while. you’ll need
one stellar ball of yarn, kitten,
to get yourself out of this mess)

I'd march you down these weathered steps
into the sea, if I thought you could swim,
and I'd watch as the ocean took you away
from the walls of rusting appliances
papered with half burned pages

I'd pull you from this madman's palace
into the closest thing to the solace of space
if only you could swim
(but then again, that's precisely
what makes it so tempting
to do it anyways)

let me sing you to sleep,
lull you into a slumber beneath the waves,
for you came here to start a war,
but your horses are dead,
your ship’s burning and
your sputtering salt water-

that’s no war path, my lovely,
it seems that Chiron is down another hero,
another almost that didn’t quite make the stars

(but don’t worry, honey,
they’ll still tell stories of you,
of these days and you’ll still
adorn cavern walls of old)

if, in the shadows of your brethren, you felt drawn
to a grand spark of purpose, your little speck of glory
baby, let it go, you're not fooling anyone

you realize, I'm the only one who will have you
the fires will burn without you
and no one will really notice
if you follow me down

did you find all you thought you would
in this world of night terrors and bite marks?
because your body count is up,
and that’s an awful lot of blood to account for.