Karl-Christoph (NEW SONG+NEW BLOG+KELSEY COVER!)

From a bare apartment with empty wardrobes and lipsticked mirrors
I awoke to a person I once loved before they disappeared,
they were lying so very still,
their lips were peeled,
like they had tried to scratch away the imprints others marked when they were full and leaking with seduction.
I wandered if I should leave, or just watch her body breathe,
while she sleeps, like she did so long ago.
Instead,
I just walked to the bed,
cuddled up and fell into dream.
I was on train in the early hours of the morning,
fighting sleep, listening to my chattering teeth
while a passenger behind me snored awkwardly.
Out the window I looked,
I remembered old times,
of highway drives and op shop stops,
swappin' movie lines like lovers rhymes.
it never got old, never got too cold never felt not right.
In hypnotic swirl that mixed heaven and earth,
my eyes watched the thoughts of a messenger bird.
It couldn't make up it's mind where his heart lay or once lied,
because he'd never known home, never felt loved, never been hugged tight.
I felt so saddened inside as his eyes stared back into mine,
bloodshot red, inflamed white, twisting nerve joints dry.
I awoke in a hang-over of coke, though still doped and unable to see anything else
but the downhill drop as I scoped how far from here there was to go.
And the apartments still bare, the wardrobes unclothed,
you wrote you missed me on the mirror like you did so long ago,
though you look so changed when we both finally awoke,
I realized there's some things that time can never mend,
i guess we're all once virgins, once shy, once in love and then never again.
loud-mouthed, under-worked, over-priced whores, down black road ally's of childhood memories. so distant but the anguish never grows old. draw with crayon, crayfish blue, idea's and dreams that sequin plait the disease you're father has. unable to keep his hands out of his pants and overworked plans of seductive desires for your friend who's barely a year older than you. she doesn't suspect it though, just runs with wide arms, welcoming harm like it was never harm at all. through four year old eyes i would identify certain frames of mind, i could almost predict with crayfish blue crayon accuracy; how everything would pan out. and blankets warm like scones in the bare palm of your hand, warm enough to touch, to break and to smear with jam, still wet with sugar, trying to wash away the dirt that sticks like glue and you feel dirty even when you wash it off. remember every second when, you lie awake trying to shake these visions to dreams. grab a pen and write it down, try to leak it out with permanent ink so someone can read it, so it wont eventually wash away like the jam that got ya' feeling dirty for days.
Across the sky, bats swooped low like hawks waiting to catch prey off guard and instantly and incessantly strike till eyes were struck as rough long talons scratched and scuffed the sight of those they once loved.
And cracks formed as daybreak broke like a locust swarm and drove the darkness like a warning, as thunder struck from the hand of Thor. We walked four steps at a time, our steps breaking my thoughts, so hypnotizing, a distracting rhyme keeping me swaying but following a direct line, a rusty road formed the way back home as I watched lonesome signs stick up from the ground every 8 km's or so.
There’s a certain feeling you get when your lost in your thoughts, so drugged up that some memories hurt, literally stopping the breath from leaving your chest. I watched you throw the butt of a smoke away like it was one of the last things you loved until it hit the ground and you kept walking. I couldn't help 'but' wander how many other things you had thrown out of your life so easily but without a second guess or second thought.
Your hand had a pocket radio playing some Christian song about a son the never made his way back home, and I thought to my self how Christians are always the first to throw the stone and how once they do a mountain falls, for some belief in hope of god.
I took a tissue, lifting my left arm and blew my nose, only to find the only thing I could release was smoke and I could not avail no matter how hard I would try and blow. It got me thinking about how once it was gone that part of me would go and leave me forever, to lay in waste in cold folds of paper, like a casket wrapped out tight and lowered, thrown out, trashed and replaced by others carrying baskets full of other needless shit they wouldn't need if I asked them. While thousands are dying open armed and starving.
'I came to', I was on the ground, so fucked up but happy with what I had realized, That tongues are twisted while they spin caramelized words and drip bitter metaphorical litter that whips like leather those that actually think before just taking it in.
Rising from my fall while shaking with withdrawals, I bit my lips salting my own wound so sweetly, put one foot in front of the other neatly, as to not fall, balanced my shoulders and continued to crawl, one step at a time back home.
a href="http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=276325795326" target="_blank">