"Real Life Notebook" and "Puritans, Meet the Jacobins"

Here are two "songs"/lyrics I've just written:

"real life notebook"

ideas like tumbling leaves,

give chase

until you trip

or they dead end

along baseball fences

or abandoned buildings.

you were a fool

to believe

the ideas could ever amount to anything.

a fool to champion autumn

in the face of cold.

estranged from what is lost,

and yet what you hold is so little

that you define yourself

to anyone who'd listen

by what you have lost,

what you could have been

and still could be...

if not for the circumstances.

and when there is no one left to listen,

you dim the lights

cue the accordion music

light the scented candles

and revel in the possibilities...

of winding back clocks;

of freezing kisses

and stealing more of them;

of catching the leaves before the breeze

and you were faster;

of conjuring great thoughts

and divining what the hell they mean;

and of having someone around more often

not only to listen to you

but inspire you.

this is rational on paper;

a tear-stained page in your real life notebook.

your real life notebook of fantasies

and delusions.

"puritans, meet the jacobins"

the grip of men

around your ankles,

you dangle

you writhe

and flail

... your head below the water.

this is just the beginning,

you know,

because you were predestined

to die in the guise of baptism

for the sake of terror.

born evil,

you craved rules and punishment

to brand "good"

on a bad piece of hide.

you will stomach this

until you have no stomach

to see ol' blue skies

turned red.

you will inhale bilge water

until the air is rarified

or you no longer breathe.

hang upside down

until your head is clear

or the world stops spinning.

either way

it's just the same

it makes no difference;

it's raining terror

in a circular way.

dead or good

good or dead

dead good.

it's what you wanted.