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Porcelain Heart


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Title: Porcelain Heart

When the day is young and the bells been rung I'll lie awake in this song I've sung. 

And the scene will go with a flash of yellow, my heart aglow and maybe a pinch of snow.

And I'll lie in bed, 'cause I don't care. Those tears I dread can't find me here. 

Inside my head its Christmas day, strapped in tight to Santa's sleigh. 

Phone in hand and flight laws broken just to leave that girl a token,

of the word's I've spoken... under the covers with furry lovers.

My breath's so hot and my arm aches, but its so easy how the bone breaks.

And the clock ticks on nonjudgmentally as if it too is ignoring me.

The moonlight calls us all sometimes, that's not easy to forget living in these words and rhymes.

But I just wish we could forgo the silent callings of the world we know, so we could know one another.

Y'know its funny, times not cheap but neither is money and when you work that hard the world sure looks sunny.

But cooped up in these porcelain walls I cannot hear those distant calls. 

I'm not a child and I know Santa's gone, but I just wish his miss could hear this song...

Because I'm warmblooded in the winter and cold every other time, and no dollar or dime could break that rhyme.

But it's not like I've forgotten the days spent outside, no, in autumn there were a lot. 

And its not like I've forgotten the days spent on the road, friends side by side and the grass not mowed.

No, every time I look outside I can feel that charcoal heat on the bottom's of my feet. 

I can feel that wind around my eyes and the length between the ground and the skies. 

And I can smell that smell, so familiar, like a breath of tobacco and a whiff of ginger.

But I don't like to linger. If I had to choose between school halls or bathroom stalls I'd choose the latter.

But I prefer glass walls where the tick-tock of the clock reverberates like an echo in outer space.

Because if the former took first place I'd only ever see that face, and I don't have a can of mace to erase that image from my mind...

So I stay inside all day and play, after all, don't all kids wish they could live that way?

Now the tree stands tall and the leaves conceal... nothing, nothing to steal.

Yes, the tree and me, we've one thing in common; we're both dead inside on this Christmas joy-ride.

And I know there are millions, but what happened to the ones place, there are billions but what happened to the "smile on every child's face?"

And I can feel it, that Christmas spirit, only when I'm allowed to come right near it,

or when they take it in their hands and smear it right on my eyes, "See, look what Santa buys".

Why do the naughty kids punishments get prioritized? They'll just fight it out when the fire dies.

You get it don't you, you see it too, right? The cold gnawing of this Christmas night?

"Loneliness makes it worse and so I wish you might, come and speak with me tonight?" 

Nothing, whether artful or described could touch me like this, natures call from the mist.

The beep of the phone, the flash of the light, it resonates within these walls tonight. 

Now I can't find the door or maybe I don't want to because these walls are made of glass, light enough to punch through!

Now out in the cold, mittens drenched with blood, (or is it the other way around?) I plod onward listening for that sound. 

But I've never heard her voice, nor the choir and that's always been my choice, so now I'll live like a liar. 

Any voice will do, its hers its true! Any voice, any voice will get me through. 

But I feel a cold crunch like the cracking of ice and I feel a sharp pain I've only felt twice. 

And I know its not nice, its not what you wanted, but I've got no rhymes to return to, no plan B's plotted.

So I'll just sit down and stare at my hand, glass protruding and blood pouring from every bruise. 

But I'm numb and don't feel a thing, this winter will chill me right through this wound. 

And on this Floridan Christmas evening I will catch frost bite. 

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