now she has two

i am not what you want i am not what your after i am not what you want singing the laughter
i am not what you want i am not what your after i am not what your up to drowning in laughter
im not what you want im not what i was im not who we are
turning the pages blind lost bizarre.

its been more then the morrow and the wind still sing true, love was her own voice, now she has two.
falling for nothing, drinking in lost night, pushing to end, and coming up full.

so long has the bird flown that winds find no flight, absent their gods voice void of the light.
rivers run side ways take up your arms, soak in the sunlight, pray the night.

im not what you want, but pay that no notice, i am what is present and what will remain. mindful of for sight and lacking the will, sink to old ways and dig us our graves.
thought comes much later interpretation breeds meaning, this just pointless, i am addressing im leaving.

i am not what you want, i am not what your after. post this so public that children will cry, scream it from roof tops staring on high

Prophecy

walking home was habit.
his body moved with out thought.
his feet know the numbers of stones on the old rode and spots on the bridge that would twist an ankle. his hands found their way to railings that his eyes could not grasp. the night was cold. the sky black with what most assumed to clouds. the lights still out for most of the surface. those who remained stayed deep with their dwellings. there were no more tourists or merchants on this route. just him and the bite from the frost air.

his head was down and he couldn't tell you if his eyes were open or closed, but his ears griped tightly the humming with in them. her words played games in his mind. bouncing off the walls as if constrained to pads and a white jacket, all convoluted and twisting in circles merging into a new sequence as he moved.

 ...your on the right path but keep moving.... your death will lays in what you hold on to even now.... your mind cannot make this pass alone...

he holds on to nothing. head phones ring out songs from before the change. the battery light had been flashing for weeks but tonight seemed worthy of the sound. the air was still as he came to the bridge. his finger tips found the frozen rail and his feet flowed up the slow incline. cobblestone and ash made this the path shimmer on most nights. nights with a moon and nights with stars. tonight there was only darkness. at the top of the slope he stops. his heart skips. what you are holding on to even now... his right hand clutches the mp3 player he had been coveting since the fall. he looks at the screen as the battery light goes dark.
The music stops.

He stands at the center of the bridge and listens to the silence. the silence only created by snow...
only there was no snow. and this silence wasn't soft. his mind raced through time to swimming as a child. entering the natitorium for a work out and knowing the pool was empty. not by sight. by sound.

the water is gone. he slips the head phones out of each ear with out removing his hood and stairs both hands on the icy rail down the barren river bed. his eyes see only blackness, his ears tell a different story. his head phones slip through his shirt and the old player clicks against the concrete. the sound echos in every direction. then the screaming. the words repeat ...what you are holding on to even now... 
the shirking grows closer.

as the timer had exhausted, he stairs and listens, until all at once he turns and he runs. cold air filling his lungs and feeling escaping his feet, he runs to edge of the bridge and past it, to the only chance he has left.
you cannot make this pass alone...