Hollywoodland

These walls were built with bricks of books
The mortar was the sand
Collected between the pages
From the day I held your hand

The sunlight that your blistered body
Burned the ink onto my skin
Tattooing quotes from long gone ghosts
Festering because of sin

Had you of told me just before
That permanence arose
This room of books would have a door
Still would it stay closed

Not words of wisdom or change of pace
Could countenance I hail
The wall of books that presents itself
Upon my sallow veil

Enclosed behind a curtain
A Halloween of sorts
Will is clearly broken
So let me make this short

Inscribed upon my face it seems
The window to a soul
Reflected in eyes of brown
The truth come to be told

What wicked language tells you
Is simply beyond compare
What lies within this flesh and bone
Aching to be shared

Fiscally your excerpts pain
My future may be stolen
Where teaching lacks and sustenance fail
This heart is far from frozen

Where it does lack in being jovial
Hidden deep inside
Confidence in form of stone
Behind which I do hide

So what I mean to say is
Though few would agree
I may be marked outside
But you have not fractured me.