All the meaning

I don’t want to talk about it
don’t want to think at all
just want to watch the skyline
rise up and over these walls
don’t want to know it’s real
don’t think I need to feel
spend all this time to heal
and say there’s nothing wrong
I don’t want to speak the words
talk about and forget the hurt
I just want to watch the skyline
rise up and break the ceiling
just forget all the meaning


You say too much but not at all
the silence here is thicker than walls
it could keep a house so warm inside
wordless evenings damning rhymes
everything you never say
speak about our lives decay
nothing ever gets to good
the words don’t know what they’re worth
standing in the silent rain
watching this house build and fade
keeps you warm and rather dry
when the roof leaks the tears are mine
pouring words flooding rhymes
you say too much but not at all
the walls you built are rather nice
though the floor is soaking through
words like rain come seeping mute
sleeping without holding hands
these walls are still so rather grand


Through the walls
we hear you
the grieving in your beds
screaming at your children
fighting over head
through the walls
we know you
as cowards and as thieves
laughter turns to violence
and crying turns to screams
it may all be happening
through the walls
it could be seen
or maybe it’s just nothing
all images in my head
through the walls is something
very different
it all could be a fever dream
or worse than we’d expect
through the walls is humanity
in all its happenstance

By any other name

Caravan of bicycles
makes its way
across the walls
invisible or well erect
they will get in
they just haven’t yet
come on trains, in trucks
now bikes
they will get in
they’ve set their sights
this is where they want to be
so they come in droves, en masse
they ride their bikes
they will get past
hoping no authority
will catch their criminal activity


Decorations on the wall
tell the story, one and all
everything you’ve ever done
watch the drama and the fun
mistakes, heroics and your fears
the decorations hold them dear
you have written your whole story
in their bones, their decorative glory
now they speak of all that’s gone
your brittle spirit, and serpent tongue
every mirror, and all your candles
they will tell of all your scandals