songwriting
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I drove past the county line,where the signal bled to static snow. In the night humming with haunted songs,I chased a voice I used to know. Each station faltered with echoes, half a hymn, half borrowed breath.I spun the dial for one clear word,to pull a signal from the death.I’m not lost, I’m just between
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I spread my life across the table, maps I never understood. The paper hums with silent echoes, coastlines fading where I stood. The rivers never flowed quite right, the towns I cherished disappeared,just pressure-point fossils of the world I once steered. And I don’t know when the ink ran dry, but I’ve been tracing ghosts
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Flowers on the floor, sequins in the stream. They sell the drowning girl as everybody’s dream.The velvet curtains draw, tragedy rehearsed. Pretty when she’s silent, perfect when it hurts. Turn the tragedy to treasure.Make my breakdown glitter gold.Clap for beauty in the wreckage. Watch me shatter, strike a pose. Curtains fall in velvet, cameras catch
I Wrote This Instead of Screaming 