Unless you don't celebrate it, then I'd like to wish everyone a Happy Valentine's Day. Perhaps you gave a gift to your wanna-be sweethearts with weak hearts, or your lovers beneath or above the covers, or just a hungry bum that's just dirt to some. So whether or not you want love, you put out fast, or you're just a generous person, then I wish you and your loved ones happiness today. And again, another project to my list of things I want to write: A Valentine's Day post in my blog. However, if it's not written by tomorrow, it probably won't come for a good year or so. --------------28.5 [The following is my Valentine's Gift to you. It's very important to me that everyone acknowledges that this was written on February 8, 2005. Particularly for the sake of the very first line. The day the I wrote this, just a day after my forever-lasting sadness had ended, I returned to a sadness worse than the one that had just passed and I felt sad about all of my relationships, for some reason, and I felt very, very sick later on that night. Sometime during that time, I believe late that night, I wrote this song. It's one of my favorites so far, and I believe it's the second thing I've written (on my own will) that has a song form. One thing I do want to make obvious is that the 'organ' being spoke of in the poem takes on different forms: clay (dissolves and is shapeable), foil (reflective and rippible), and glass (breakable). I hope with this and all other things I write, that you'll think about and attempt to understand. Thank you all that read my work. Enjoy.] A Clay Thing Held Love It's twice ressurection on this fiery day. I would spill, but my face is made of clay. I've got rocks in my eyes; we just might let them go away. Tell your feelings to come out to play. La-La,La,La-La La-La,La,-La Teddy bears soaked in oil I've got the dirt on my hands, My pulse is reflecting, And the organ's made of foil. I just want to know, What day it's selecting. Judgement, like solid fate. I would love to know. But it's days like these that I hate. La-La,La,La-La La-La,La,-La My sucker is foil, It bleeds real nice, And it tastes so sweet. Teething like mice, It's sticking to my feet. Judgement, like solid fate. Turn it into lead. And it's days like these, I wish I was dead. La-La,La,La-La La-La,La-La I've got a thorn crown (a rose, a rose, a rose) It's crimson and making crimson drip. The bottom is cut. It pricked my thumb, And it made the wound shut. We're out of luck. Just don't let it bust or slip. Judgement, like solid fate. It's bending; it's knotting. And it's days like these, I'm already rotting. La-La,La,La-La La-La,La-La A golden necklace, A broken neck brace. A silver platter, To catch my glass, And watch it shatter. Judgement, like solid fate. I held it up, it pulled me through. The glass is solid fate. It's really foil, It makes me hate that I ever knew my hands are soil. La-La,La,La-La It's all clay (it's all clay) It's just mud. And it's that day, It just never came. La-La,La,La-La La-La,La-La It never came La-La,La-La La-La,La-La A voice: It never came. We sat and waited, but it never came. Time stopped, the sun was broken, and the dial was useless. The dial was clay, but it turned to mud. No one knew what to think, because circulation was no longer circular. The earth was no longer a ball, but a flattened disc. A record. A recording. It never came, because we never saw it coming. Time took too long. We sat and waited, but it never came. -(C)Joshua Gomez/Love