six o'clock, every morning
on its way since the dawn was yawning
meant for you as long as you pick it up
made for the spot beside your teacup

it is not new news that dreams do come true
only when the moon is as blue as the skies clear hue

but, i think, this month; maybe it is due

Day 4: Here is my heart

Day 1: I left my heart at the bar but you mistook it for finger food

Day 2: Nibbled and chewed, I gave you a gun to stop its thrashing
            but you shot at my feet and I danced to your beat

Day 3: broken and bruised I tried to leave but I was stuck on your leash
            part of my heart on my sleeve, the rest in your stomach
            you were the master of me. The master of puppets

Day 4: ready for a long awaited rest
            I've painted a target over my chest
            please, shoot straight
            you can keep what you ate

The well of my soul might be full
but the cogs by which I once drew forth water rusted long ago
I  twist, contort,
strain and force
but the rivers ran their course
and as much as I ***** my eye
I can never cry

Dancing on the stage bathed in ultra violet
is a dripping young honey making me ultra-violent.
My three stooges become scrooges using ***** useless excuses
to not be Zeus's and noose the spruce for their collusive abuses.
I leave the troupe, loop back, snoop, try to ******
induce some juice, a little loose chartreuse

The girl looks down from the platform, eyes vacant and hollow
Ten years of this storm full of snake-pits and sorrow
No glow but the glint of a nose speckled with snow
Her heartbeat allegro slows, lower tempo - adagio

For she's hooked to the pole by an IV of ******* and circumstance
I regret holding the cash and stealing her glance.
It falls from my hand, not that thats exculpatory
and when I next catch her eyes, it's merely to say, 'sorry'

Woke to a grocery list.
Goes like this;
Duty, Death.

I'm bound to the round sound of the guitar
and I'm deep underground sleeping down with the drowned
now the lights of the town seem extraordinarily far
wound around my crown, sleep drips down from the stars

but I think it's the dope, smoke dances in my lungs
or the drink that gropes both my liver and my tongue
one long blink - begin to float roam the unknown with the young

and opening my eyes I'm awake from the sleep
the dopamine has died my aches on me creep
its time to climb but the slopes are steep
put on my tie and climb in the jeep
put my mind to the pile of files that are heaped
run with these self proclaimed wolves who are sheep
just thinking of home, the release of the deep