Hollow Candles.

I Am Drowning.

((Sung))

...In the rain,
my love will melt away...
thunder-headin' clouds taunting happiness...
For the Spring,
he wraps his hands about my golden wrists...
He pulls me out of all my,
fallen-angel martyr ways,
and drags me down to my,
drownin' days...

((Spoken))

Your smiles smell like baby-faced flowers blooming under the stealth of a sweet,
Spring
rain.

It's no wonder they corrupt my black soul.

Where before I would,
jump over broken bridges
and dive without pretense to the depths of
black-water wells...
just to watch myself shatter as I hit the brick-bottom...

See, I used to fall in love.

I used to blind-fold my milk-chocolate eyes and fling myself over the precipice of trust,
backwards,
waiting for the strong arms of a silver-studded knight to catch me.
And then I would pick up every scattered piece of mica-memory
winking murderously at me from beneath my out-stretched and bleeding fingers,
storing them within the shadows that clung
to every rung
of my dislocated spinal chord...
My pain was a bridge to nowhere,
and my back was a rotting and twisted skeletal-stairway to heaven that never quite reached the top...

I was constantly seeking...wandering...looking...

((Sung))

Searching for the key to his angel wings...
Fire brandished in his feathers...
Dive into the
pool
of love
within
his eyes...
I am falling...
and I fall...
endlessly...

((Spoken))

Hungry for love.
No -
Starving for it.
And yet,
every acidic tear drop set fire to the darkness that splayed itself just beyond the reach of my
flickering
halo
glow.
So every path was burned into oblivion.
Every clue that would have led me to the secrets lurking behind silhouetted kisses
and muffled "I love you"'s
floated down as the ashes and cinders of
flaming angel wings...
Falling in love had begun to deteriorate my innocence;
I thought I would never fly again.

Every sip I took of it was poison to my heart.
Unconciously, whenever I tucked myself to sleep
inside fantasies and dreams,
I would scoop up the snowy coating of charred feathers from about my heels
and drink in the dryness
of infatuation.

So yes,
I used to fall in love.
And I used to let my body wither in the sun for lack of it.

But now, I'm drowning.

You have molded me into your
brown-clay-in-a-riverbed kiss;
so as we dance around beneath Spring rain-clouds,
slipping on dew-sprinkled blades of emerald until we're forced to dive into those overflowing puddles of laughter and surging joy in eachother's eyes for lack of sure footing...
I have found that my wings no longer drag in the dust inside my shadows,
but propel me through steep waters.
I am
drowning,
yet I will not die.
I will grow gills and soak in the strange sensation of your pure words,
and remember that love is not a free-fall,
but a descent upwards to the sediment of one's own heart.

((Sung))

...In the rain,
my love will melt away...
thunder-headin' clouds taunting happiness...
For the Spring,
he wraps his hands about my golden wrists...
He pulls me out of all my,
fallen-angel martyr ways,
and drags me down to my,
drownin' days...

((End))

He is...

His deep dreads
fall into a lucious silhouette
of molten
honey...
they drip lavishly
from the depths
of his
whispered
thoughts.
Two eyes like
caramelized
brown-sugar stars
smolder into
my
being...
His smooth chocolate skin
grows deeper,
as if the twilight would seek to
draw night
upon him.
But it is not the sun
that dims
his countenance.
His features
give clarity
to the heart
I wear about my neck,
beating to a song
which mine
lustly
sings.
It is his halo
that reveals itself;
the purity of his
golden wings
that leave me
in
awe.

...Heaven-sent.

Bajan March.

I walk upon a path of
tears,
shed like bits of broken
soul
from eyes shut wide.

My ancestors.

And along the way,
sugar cane seeks to see me
stumble -
bundles of it dipped in the blood of
innocent
black-faced
flowers.

Tiny fingers
and baby hands,
which should have been
tenderly
running through
golden thrushes...

They still grip their
broken hearts,
dripping sweetly inside
those
stalks.

And though the beach around me
is devoid of all
life
but mine -
I can see a million footprints
ahead,
where my heels
have not yet
touched.

And the wind whispers
dearly
to me,
with the voice of cool mango
and the spray of clear sea...

"Child,
you will walk
in this procession
seemingly
alone;
but your family,
who still struggle with their shackles,
will accompany you -
through every faltering
step,
and every staggering
run -
waiting for you
to liberate
their
memories."

And so, I march.

Midnight.

-{REFRAIN}-

She wove her –

Diamonds-in-her-hair,

Inside that,

Al-a-baster-stare;

She glows down on me…

She grows above me;

I play her –

Symp-a-thizing-dare,

Beneath her –

Symp-a-thizing-glare,

The tide above her…

My midnight lover –

Uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh!

Verse 1

She broke backs – backed to rocks/ Ba-rocked – wit’ two trigga’s/ bein' fingered/ on her cor-set…top…/ she drops featha’s/ when she sheds ‘em/ halo pulsin’ to the rhythm/ of the wishes in the ghetto - / stop!/ cops/ be props/ in a play/ played the game/ in the shadows/ of her mid-night…plots…/ she locks crime in a cage,/ enraged/ out-breaks/within a city-wide…stage…/ she in the same silver dress/ with the same onyx drop/ on the same diamond necklace/ yes…/ whispered wishes of healing/ she’s been dealing/ her solaces/ like lacey lusts/ among the rest…less…/ she grooms/ guns to goons/ like the one’s and two’s/ hot tears/ she strums the blues…/ like saxophones/ the notes/ emerge like bloody smoke/ in the murder that she…wrote…/ splayed like lovers on my sheets/ she bleeds/ her hope/ through the windows and out of dreams.../ she screams/ sovereignties/ obscene/ the servants’ seen/ her silhouette about the knees…/ ghosts don’t want her,/ pearly mother/ two tides lavishing their pistol-pain upon – her…/ out of breath,/ can’t we rest?/ heads to pillows/ sweet kisses beneath the moonlight, like -

-{Refrain}- 1x

Verse 2