I see her passing by like a shooting star.
How rare these moments truly are.
What purpose that drives my heart to devotion.
Devotion, driven, like swimming across the entire ocean.
Fate prepares before birth's first light.
Was it love at first sight?

I stole a rose from her garden.
At first opportunity, I gave it back to her.
"Oh, the most beautiful rose I have ever seen!" she admires.
It was once her's, dare I say she is in love with herself?
I was wrong, I see it this day, she is in love with me,
Finding excuse to attribute wondrous things to me.

I can't be foolish, I must be strong.
At second opportunity, I cannot be wrong.
"Just as the lake reveals to me the truth of my face,
Dear queen, you reveal to me the truth of my heart."
She delights in my words, but there is doubt in her heart.
A thorn I see there, but gifted with the proper acumen I am not.

At third opportunity, I come prepared.
To seek out the thorn, to vanquish it, but she is scared.
She has grown used to the pain of the thorn,
Now removing it is the true thing of scorn.
The operation begins and I am lost forever,
"Familiar it is to you, and you thought you were clever..."

"Whatever do you mean, fair queen?"
The thorn, it is poison, a dagger unseen.
"You put the thorn there! It was you that maimed me!
Your poison that's trifling, the ailment that claims me!"
I stare without word, I'm pale to the touch,
How cold I appear to be, confusion as such.

"If ever I did, and I do not say that you are wrong,
Truly it was another man, and not I that broke your song!"
She quivers with anger, the spittle is rain as she speaks,
I am drenched in accusation, unable to evade the shrieks.
"You broke my heart! Your rose was evidence of that!
Had you not stolen my innocence, you would still be a rat!"

They have fallen upon willing ears, her words.
No more opportunities, flown south with the birds.
"What will you have done, my queen,
I am undeserving of your mercy..."
Our eyes met and diverged from meeting.
Our hands, once acquainted, are strangers once more.

She says the words pronounced like kung-fu film fists to the face.
"To, the, guillotine, so, it, is, quick, and, clean, post haste!"
Her judgment is clear, I await the deed.
Taken to the pit where it is to be done, dragged by her steed.
I look to her and her eyes no longer reflect love, but doom.
She is the last thing I see, and death my last moment to bloom,
Like a red, red rose.

I forget where I forgot you...
That place is a ghost land,
it's a dreamscape,
it's a netherworld,
where Styx was our path
and death was our guide
for into life we emerged
absent of one another.

When I remember that I don't remember you,
there is a gentle flutter of the heart
or the buoyancy of a smile uplifting the balloons of my cheeks
even the pull of earthly forces
a magnetism that I'm sure slams us into walls
across time and space
when we can't escape the force.
I'm forced to regret my shame.
My heart splits apart where glue,
like melting-hot pizza cheese,
can't protect the seams and my memory is suddenly
seamless.

There you are.
Cradled in a vignette.
It's snowing, and I've fallen over.
My friend cackles next to our Quasimodo snowman.
You fear that I am a basket of eggs
sliding toward the precipice
time counts down
you fade
I smile,
and tomorrow
your haunting is a stormcloud
the past comes raining down upon me...

"Good morning folks, it's 97.8FML; look's like we've got repressed memories. Visibility is low. There's a sharp depression chill sweeping over. The tears won't let up; about 70litres today. Better have good wipers, it's looking like a long weekend. And now, we have a word from our sponsors. Kleenex."

The memory surfaced the same way you found me.
Out of the blue, like an angel: of death or of life, I don't know.
Sleeping is harder than catching butterflies.
When I count the sheep, they have your face.
When I think about you, it's a circus.
It's a mixture of laughter and staring into a wall; the occasionally thrown chair at an invisible lion and the whiplash of my dreadful anger.

It doesn't make sense. I last knew you in the time it takes to grow a forest. And here I am. In a thicket of bedlam.

I used to forget that I'd forgotten you.
Now, I can't remember you're not worth the memory.

Do you see the towers of the, towers of the mind.
Broadcasting jealousy and sin of every kind.
Was hopefully lost, but now I’m hopelessly found.
Was flying high, but now I’m hugging the ground.

Dangerous music of the, music of the lion,
Scaring the children, can you hear ’em cryin’?
Sometimes sleeping sound, sometimes waking silent.
Always eating lifeforms, always acting violent.

Do you mind, yes do you mind, a different tasting relief?
Do you dream of God, or does the devil ***** belief?
You say I was blind, now I want you to say that I see.
You will lock the doors and I will distribute the key.

Safely seeking seven songs so silence stops.
Broken bridges braying creating many crops.
A spectacular vernacular sweeps the nation.
A dreadful mouthful regurgitated elation.

Sight to the sorrowful, blindness to the blissful.
I dare say corporate ****** tarnish the beautiful.

The music wasn't reaching him.
He was starting to wonder,
was he really him?
The picture fades in the portrait
rim,
but it's okay, if who you are is dim,
because the world is brighter than your
sin
but to him,
the world fades in its global
rim
and his life loses its flavor
love loses its neighbor
It's kind of hard to think
when your job is slave labor
It's kind of hard to wink when happiness
is hard to savor,
but that doesn't mean you've got to hate your
creator.
How does life go on when you're empty?
You hunger for more,
but in front of you is plenty
Why?
As time ticks down
from eleven,
the suffering is worse
when all you want is
heaven.

My passions, like a flood of magma, pool at my feet; caking, cooling, cementing... and I wonder why I am rooted in my beliefs.

Don't say it, I warned, I professed
Don't say
the tears of a woman
weigh more
than the tears of a man
I wouldn't dare, she said
for even though my tears could crush scales
their load could plant ten oxen in the dirt
capsize ships
they also carry the joy
that you are by my side
and your tears
bellow with the fear
that you are alone

I nodded
she understood

She rested her head on my shoulder
a weight that pleased me
a gesture that eased my heart
tell me, she said
about the scars in the river

I didn't know what she meant
a river with scars
what bled from it
water does not bleed
I told her this
she said
if water does not bleed
men do not cry
I said, men do cry
she said, then water does bleed
I ask, what does water bleed
everything breaks, she said
everything is made of finer things
fine things in men break, I said
who breaks them, she asked
women do, I said
did I break you, she asked
not yet, I sighed, not yet
and she then wished in her heart
that that would never yet be so

I wondered from then on
even after she broke me
even after I forgot her face
what are the scars in the river
what does water bleed

Then
on a day when the sun baked the earth
when thirst drove one to madness for water
when children dove in the lake
dogs panted cross-armed beside steaming asphalt
just to feel the windrush of the cars
people, blasting air-conditioning, counted their blessings
people, sweat sogging their ragged clothes, counted their woes
and I watched the sea give of itself to the sky
water evaporated heavenward
and I said to myself,
ahh - water does bleed

In the days that followed
the bleeding of the rivers, lakes, ocean, and people,
I watched the heavens weep terribly
like a mother in despair over her dead child
and I saw people drink of the sky
dance in the weeping
laugh - laugh to crying if they must
laugh for exultation of life and love
dance and roll and frolic in the richness of the land
and I asked myself
having seen the bleeding of the river
Is this the bleeding of the sky

Winter came slow
like death, we expected it
yet dreaded its presence when it arrived
how the snow choked the life out of the land
and we clamored in fear of the world without
We clung to one another
clung in ways I never knew in summer
intimate like a scarf around the neck
she and I snuggled in the sheets
no fear of sweat
no
sweat was desired
water was desired in every way
to break the spell of the arid air
she and I danced the way
only two bodies could
when connected like child to mother
she was connected to me
I was the nourisher
I was the farmer in the field
in her fields
in the fields of the future
generations could be sown and grown
and yet
they could cease to exist should I
deign to disappear from her
the cruelty of destroying the future was present
a cruelty that is
a man's purpose
to allow, or to abate

We held one another
by the window
watching winter fade
snow crept from the trees
the ground dissolved from winter white to early-spring brown
I watched the snow bleed
I then saw it all
the cycle of life
water and its many phases
and I turned to her
I said, "I love you."
She understood
as she held me tighter
shedding the weight of the past
she pressed her lips on my ear
said, "Thank you, my love."
And from then, I never scarred again.
My rivers never bled
and neither hers
evermore.

As a boy I grew up thriving off of excitement,
Counting the amusing days toward bitter end.
That boy never saw me huddling in crap caked coat,
Calling out to him to stop dreaming! Do homework!

As a teenager I grew up running; lust a carrot before me.
I thought each day a time for friendship, not discipline.
I thought each kiss to be life's purpose and not reprieve.
I though love to be freedom from responsibility. Oh dear.

As a young man I grew up crawling through smoke.
My life was burning down, that's why I was blind.
My blood was boiling that's why I was always angry.
I was falling apart, a thing of ash and charred bones.

As a man I grew up clothed in another lifetime's nightmares.
Watching the lives of others became window shopping.
I used to beg for candy, now for money; born a beggar.
There is no way out of this hole, because I'm the hole.

As an old man I grew up spitting out teeth, shedding.
I shed the nightmares, I shed the misery, even poverty.
I watch myself shedding even insanity; I'm no longer aware.
From this bed I exhale a wasted life, and meet a loving God.

As a spirit I finally grew up, finally glad for a lifetime's lessons.
Listen to those who have grown up, be disciplined and in that free.
Only in working for all that you are worth will poverty lessen.
Shirk your teachers? Hate your parents? You'll be just like me.

I never used to feel haunted.
Until I lost what made me whole.
On my arm, she I flaunted.
Now she's gone, where is my soul?

Where is it? Where is the music?
My foot lies flat, no way to use it.
Now she haunts me day and night,
in the hollow where I hear the blues.

There's no music, like a funeral,
still, she plays the blues.
I'd held out hope still knowing all,
until I heard the news.

She's dead, not the way I am inside,
because I can still kick buckets
and there are no more dreams for her.

It makes the haunting deadly
what if we were wed? hic!
why aren't I dead, too? hic!
We'll never be together now...

Who is she, you ask?
She's my muse, who sang the blues.
She kept my feet and hands in tune.
My muse knew of all the birds in June,
their calls cataloged in stacks like dunes.

I don't know where she went,
but the haunting is severe.
She speaks in the hollow of my soul,
but, if I'm alive, why can't I hear?

The ecstasy in the harmony created by the symphony 'pon my guitar... the chaos rending quake, of a glass breaking in the kitchen as melodies echo into the void caused by aging seconds. Part of me. Living in a utopia of sounds; the other, startled by a panicked accident. This is the nature of coincidence. This is the nature of the world. Harmony and discord, sharing the same cup.

But do they gleam!
Their spots unseen.
The walls we climb,
aren't they divine?
There a spit shine;
not so disgusting.
Here a soiling secret,
but it's not rusting.
You may not like it,
so quit building it,
but it's here so you
cannot even escape
a world of crap,
while you keep out
the lifesavers,
that you've crossed
off the grocery list.
So obey the walls,
they're tall order.
Ignore the calls,
or the feint odor.
The greatest malls,
and all their *****,
you'll soon realize
are hopeless junk.

Gone is the freedom
Collapsed is the passion that was load bearing
Our hopes lie in groves, past knowledge.
Waiting upon dying breath if Despair is to die.
And what remains for us who remain?
Are we the useless tea dregs waiting for flames?
Has everything good been stripped away aginst our choosing?
If so, do we allow ourselves to drown?
Righteousness is as a static charge - building until someone is shocked.
Are you jolted awake?
Will you be my monster, assembled from the legs and arms of myriad saints?
Question upon question... does it derail you, or embolden you?
They will find you without regard for your privacy.
Even in the wake of your denial, they will test you.
Are you who you think you are?
If you are not, then I will define you.
You are weary. Confused. Searching.
Much as any beast in the wild, you hunger incessantly and no one and nothing has the fill you seek.
Then, are you not the living dead?
A body that still ticks and talks, but, dear me, no soul, have you?
We are on a quest to reclaim such forgotten things.
In the depths of darkness, a darkness nestled in the heart of mystery and not really a darkness at all, desire whispers.
All you must do is whisper back.

Weeks spent searching for an answer.
Inside, I've only been finding cancer.
Grow strong, you'll be a dancer.
"You're wrong, that's not the answer."

I'll grow into a crook, roaming streets.
I'll crack open stores, like nuts, for eats.
Prostitutes will be my daily conviction.
My homes will slay me with eviction.

Little did I know, I'd become a legend.
Like Bilbo humbly living at Bag End.
Plenty stories to tell, mistakes to defend.
Dragons I've slain, lovers in deep ends.

Yet, it's all come down on this bluff.
I'd always believed I was a tough.
I'll have you know, it's just a bluff.
When I jump, I'll fly into the rough.

1) Chunks of silently fluttering wings descend,
They collectively form a gust of gentle wind.

2) Jars of emptiness lay open. Around, waters bend,
And swirl the jars to regard my invitation: rescind.

3) A blow for toe is their price for ice.
To cool a fool, a steep fall for all.

Let's obliterate this madness,
And maddening ventures!

1) Tell the angels that by the time they left,
I had been healed by their form of nature!

2) Tell the demons and their empty chatter,
That I will no longer give them my life.

3) Finally, tell life that consequence is meaningless to a fool.
The fool should never have been born or made a tool.

Ah, the sound of clarity is sweet: like water, like air.
Onward to world *******, I willingly prepare.

Important roles to play, we all do have,
but fools **** the day, you don't know the half.
In entirety we've lost, our will to live,
but fools sap your kindness, till you've not to give.

You can't change the channel or buy a book,
when you're face to face with this kind of crook.
You still have your sight, but can't seem to look,
at the mess they've made, the arrogance took.

Hiding in the skins of gods, these fools wait,
To prey upon innocence, odds are great.
There's no amount of stupid that will sate,
these sober morons, and their world-wide plate.

they break
what they can't buy
where i own it
the land
the deed
the deeds
the first meeting
a hand, gently, cupping her hip
i remember her
in ways she doesn't
in ways impossible
the flutter of her eyelashes
taken aback, then
softly
as a feather fall
drooping of her eyelids
curving of her lips
every moment from then
till mine, slipping off
her emerald slippers
as she groped her chest
soft panting
anticipating
no breath was there for fear
only for joy, and weeping for pleasure
but i was not there
i was already here
in mourning
for who could cherish a night so sweet
forever
surely i,
i tell you,
for i am ever there
in the midst of every meeting, i am absent
stolen away
by love's first embrace
in the coffin
in the death of life, to love, i slumber
for the sun of onus
debt to what tills the earth
i till it not
for i shall never be he who makes her
wait
till
later
i till the day, au revoir
to distant lands, yonder, seek my morrow
seek my yesterday
but today, i'm with her,
as if with child
as if burdened by an impossible future
by myriad questions,
chemistry, timetables, passports, important dates
we are alchemists
she and i,
abed
amidst the dread of toil and bore,
we are parched of pleasure
we seek it,
it is
no one else's
but ours
we mine it
between fear and flight
we fight time and being
we fight ourselves
we fight the womb, what is without that which is opportune,
the midst of our seeking
farming her waistlands
for diamonds, for oases, for meadows, for flowers unbloomed,
i sought her mind for love
attempted
she denied me
pressed her thumb to my lips
said every word i never dared dream
a woman say
and still
ever more she spoke
and i was entranced
enraptured
askance at how
my mind
my bark encrusted body
came alive
with her grace, healing the rigor mortis
of ages past
suppleness of time, unwound in length
now newly wound in electrifying sight
awoke me
alighting the sinews of my brain
with wisdom, truth, and recognition of the life before me
truly alive, and wanting of me, from marrow to end,
and all at once
by ken i learned, how
barren
the world was
without her
despite her, even,
as, i thought, surely i had known charm, before her...
surely, i had known truth, and victory, and love, before...
nay,
i knew,
naught was i in keeping of any bauble the world trifles
in one's company,
with prices aplenty,
all to conjure the mystery, majesty, misery, and deceit of value,
only
should one glean the truth,
to sup of the waters
of love and its dew
to be there
at the hip
and taste of the river
from forefathers and ancient mothers,
from maidens and warlords
from kings and queens,
they all passed down their sweat of brow
the blood of swords and season's flow
to have us know
all for us
this was done
and you all
waste it
tirelessly
merely
talking about love

while,
i
dream it
eat of it
live it
enjoy it...

why not you?

I ain't got no money
I ain't got no time
I ain't got no talent
but ability to rhyme

Lost friends in the gutter
lost lovers in the winds
I only seem to hold on
to this bottle of gin

Too busy with nonsense
too drunken to care
There is no evidence
of my copious despair
but I have an idea
that will turn it around
a crate full of beer
in which I will drown.

They ponder still, of the will, of the open book;
Better to be judged by cover, or by page, I await answer.

Foreign ink drops stain my words.
Eager notes scrawl my organs.
Passioned fingers, sweat my bonds; loose,
Like wings in the wind, my knowledge flies,
Unbridled.

They question more, the empty score, of the read bible;
Simpler to be believed, than misunderstood, agree?

Mumbling misfits, chant my contents in crazed ecstasy;
I made no commands, I wish for no harm;
I seek no justice, I want not blood, for fluid.
I wish for eyes and eyes alone.
Give it to me, these pleasures; alone.

They pass me down, the procession quick, and change me, day and night;
I am no babe, I need no milk for life, I have not mouth to feed, I need minds to seed.

The whispers they make in my presence,
behind closed doors is atrocious.
Do they ponder of me still,
to question my answers?
I care not, no more, for now, I am fractured.

For if you read, the broken pieces, the shards of my once reflective ode to wisdom;
You will gain naught but, an unbearable ache of the mind.

In form alone
in shape it thrives
it shifts and shouts
it lies in terror.
I wonder where
I know it from
and who it is
and where's the gun...
But the body it held
the secrets it whispers
I cannot know
for my tongue's like a bell.
The final knell
that soul did hear
was grave and sharp
that much is clear.

time forgot
the scars
the words
the open sesame
of my miseries
my contempt
for the irony,
of freely contrived romance

how her lips,
pressed against mine
became the toothed suckling
of her vampiric abandon
the sucrose of my affections and adorations of her
how she fed on my caresses and poetry
how she wounded my soul
bled me out of devotion, mercifully, with adultery
and in the coffin
where I lay
kosher, rigor mortus preserved, for her trophy cabinet
taxidermy of bloodmoon, post-******, post-disenchantment
if the coitus fits, the honeymoon was faked
how she planned it
bottled my tears for a dry day
lubricant for her tryst

for having faked it
so many times,
surely the ink has run dry
surely the letters were forged by faithlessness
my Hancock used,
to certify her authenticity,
against my imagination
the signature of my pleasures,
a wife's knowing,
turned to the devil's archives
my powers
turned to the dark
where my light
illuminated wonders untold
impossible
for a monkey has palms and thumb
but it builds not empires with feces
wherest, withal, man builds forests where monkeys swing

and I sung at her wedding
canary fleeing the coalmine, of debauchery,
"Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

hours ahead, the setting sun,
I spoke, and the world's light dimmed
that I should be beleaguered
20,000 leagues fatigued
taking my meager pay
how many times
can a heart break
beholding infidelity
a woman so treasured
if one should have
20,000 hearts, and 20 souls,
how many times
would the domino effect
produce domino displays
like rivers and waterfalls
seas and skies
mountains and snowfalls
lakes and ponds
oceans and mirages

I sung it all
for never shall I bear peace
in the sight of infidels
for they massacred love
in their ****** of my love
a thousand men took her
willingly, she walked
into the church mass
and let them have their way
to spite my face
to rend my heart open
with joyful, painful *******
and drain my heart of its love
in the pews
for the children's sake
to see the fraud of their father
that my blood be tears
and my tears be blood
I have no quench of my sorrows
I bleed ore
and cry thunders in the bellows of my torment
known never peace have I
though having supped of Nirvana
and forged heavens
from my joys abundant
I have been mad
and wasteful
surely
to weather myriad wicked adulteresses so
and still have peace in my breast
it
surely,
I profess
was never peace, but madness!

SURELY

and so,
that is why
it took time for my heart's breaking
for every ******
and every pulsing
of cave, to womb and back,
the journey of each sacrilege
of innocence
that generations
of children
have been metaphysically unborn

by such a fuckery

that worlds have been destroyed
before spawning from nebula

that lives have been destroyed and saved, both,
before needing salvation
before being endangered

that hope was undone, in need and dream,

that songs were unsung, and sung in their unsinging
before stories wrote their need to be shared
that bards would be unborn
before legends could prophesy this unholy merrymaking
befallen me
and I,
soft of heart and lung
could be drowned
in my keep
with nary a poppy seed
to sate
the breaking of water, in me, soft-hearted I be
that meteors
could shatter the stillnesses
of the surfaces of oceans, tempered as I,
and I,
as ice shattereth
and remain disparate, frozen in time,
I break, and continue, beyond need - beyond agony
beyond warmth that wets the rain to stir from sleep
beyond ice such that tears never dreamt of cold
to neither have walked the sky
such tears are dream itself
but
to dream of cavernous sorrows
mere
to satisfy the torture of things wished to be unknown
what madness could be avoided
though blessed be the avoiding
that there need be sorrows such that hells become heavens
and the devil become deserving of all the hells
due the death of Christ
that lucifer bear the scorn of all sinners
for all time
till time loses meaning
and joy becomes as vapor to lucifer
as vapor is to the vacuum of space
but a pebble in an ocean's wealth of nothing...

Therein, my wrath,
due all my torments, chronic as breath,
that my heart has become a vice
that empathy has become chastity belt
frostbite, my melanin price, cakes my fist
as I behold my gavel,
and judge all the ****** 1000-years before their deaths,
with such wisdoms, my rage knows not end
my fury knows not storms, in universes beholding their eternal gaits,
my fury cannot fathom taming,

that my heartache become a madness
that neither holiness nor love canst quell
save that nothing save me otherwise,
that I become married to,
nay,
that I BECOME love and holiness,
righteousness, too,
that my righteous wrath,
be spared annexation to evil,
that my vengeances be preserved
and mine enemies kept alive
in my everlasting joy
of what punisheth them,
eterally!

That I,
may be born celibate
before knowing my virginity
simply to inquire
ahead of custom and common ontological seeking
query women,
that they do still, without vanity,
utter the word, the sign, the force, the mind, the passion, "LOVE."

let alone perform it, that which it is I say,
a man's privilege to declare that he knoweth love,
and women darest have never had it,
yet they deign gave God's breath to their desires of love,
reified it
believed in it
let alone had faith in themselves that men died for their ******
that marriage be ****** by the succubus in God's heaven!

They'd dare!

take it, from me, in my offering,
that I would love her,
truly,
in earnest
and see her fed of love
as like water
like milk to a babe
or,
should she deign me less than a man
due my will to love her
should she deign herself queen without me,

whenever the moment strikes
she'll dare, on a whim,
part her legs
for any man
declaring himself "King."
though he be a vagrant,
a pauper, a louse, a street urchin,
with gold bullion cascading from his pockets
because I, dared declare, "I love her..."
that she should **** such a lecherous, maggot semened
cuckold of love who would bed her with envy of me
and joy of that envy sated
true joy in his ******* of my wife
for he sold his soul
to bed her
buy her
and found his purchase met faithfully
that he might, unfaithfully
unholily,
amuse her
dwell in her
due the purchase of womanhood
due the market prices many celebrate ****** by,
rather,
due the "Graces", the unlovable, evil, malice
the bloodied, rancid, defiled, arrogant ignorant, so-called
"love" exemplified, demonstrated primarily, of
a djinn, a monster, a fiend, a demon,
a devil, in fact,
so called:

SATAN

This is the narrative:
I live a comparative nightmare
disparate psyches battle for clarity,
within one body,
the cycle's insanity,
but humanity is the parody of a benevolent charity.

I lead the *** of an army
and lay waste on the enemy
so heavy that the donkey
is appointed head of the EPA:
it's on the trump card.

I don't understand the garbage I spew;
so much waste that there's nothing new.
It all conforms into a deep black goo
that I must dump in the rivers, my pride, too.

There are chains on my soul,
and they are sewn into my flesh
so that I am caged in my body.
When something rots,
there's no room to breathe.
When there is pain, it is amplified.
When I wish to love, I am destroyed,
and this happens with every glance,
for I love at first sight, but I am destroyed
yet, the chains remain, gnawing,
choking, hanging me, please...
Let me free.

Are you patiently persistent, or persistently patient?
You are encouraged to be both when under the pavement.
Yet, in the world of the living, everyone's rushing.
When you blow jobs from the government, blushing.
When you smoke cars at the dealer, pushing.
Ideas laced over one another like a hero in addiction.
Pleasure locked in fervent battle like out her space friction.

I need a place to die where love is infinite.
Hostess: "Another cup of gin?"
Me: "That's it, I quit!"
Hostess: "You don't even work here, Jim?"
Me: It's weird, I know, but this moment isn't working for me,
I've got to split..."

We need to live in a place where you can't get addicted off of spit!
I don't want to buy pleasure, don't you ever make it an option,
do you like broken souls, so broken that the empty's rotten?
I've lost my nerve with this, so I can't feel a thing,
Reality: "Sir, we've been calling you for years!"
Me: "Oh, couldn't hear the ring... from where I dropped it!"

I'm divorced from this insanity, reality? Travesty?
I show up at bars, saying, "Let me out!" Bars of steel!
It's a hard sell to be sober. I'm sober, man. "For real?"
Everyone wants the pleasure: a jolly good time!
When someone's sober, well, it's almost a crime... (it might be)
Beer? No. Poker? No. Swear word? No. *******? Ummm...
:)
Maybe...
>:-)
No.
:'-(

What a land. What a hopeless, marching masquerade of: huh?

When the cage has no bars, what do you rattle?
I grab my chest, something is pounding inside!
Maybe I'm the cage...
I'm a walking, talking penitentiary.
My uniform is black, my prisoner is blue,
these words that I'm writing, he's writing to you!
Yet I'm an accomplice because I too am a prisoner,
I build walls and break them down hoping the symbolism will free me.
I traversed the world searching for a way out, my only hope is the sky,
so I created all of you to help me fly.
I just lied, didn't I? That's what you'd wish.
Baby, you've got no class if you're not the main dish.
A car or a plane or a train or a ship.
You can go anywhere you want but you can't leave this "planet"... sh#$!
Where do you want to go, J? You barely leave your house.
"Shh, I need an excuse to hate my life!"
You don't need to hate you, that's a job for your ex-wife...
"Sshhhhhh."