He dreamt of mice
and he dreamt of gods
and he dreamt of mice
that were gods
and gods that feared mice
and he dreamt of secrets
that he could not tell
and of memories
that were not his
and he dreamt of days
that wished they could see nights
and nights that ignored mornings
and he dreamt
that the planets were fish
and that the ocean
was let loose to swim in the sky
and through the emptiness of space
and that man was never made
of flesh or bone
and that men where children of mice
mice that knew too many secrets
and they would not share
any of those secrets with man
but they would share
their milk and their cookies
and tell men how to avoid cats
when cats dream
because when cats dream
they become bigger than mice
and become more loved than gods
and in their purring
is the death song
of the kingdom of mice
and without mice
and their kingdom safe
that man would be lost children
that looked like worms
to the planets that swam like fish
in the ocean that floated
in the emptiness of space
and then he woke
and did not remember
what he had dreamt
and scurried across the floor
and ate some cookies
and scanned the darkness
for any cats that might
dare to sleep
and in sleeping dream
and dream the beginning
of the end of everything

Every time that you fall in love,
your soul inhabits a distant star-
so as you come down from above,
you must remember who you are.

As even the light is but a dream,
and woke you screaming in your car-
as decades now have dried the stream,
you must remember who you are.

To comfort that loathing little boy
who lives within your reckless scar-
to love; to touch and not destroy,
you must remember who you are.

Because you forgot your eternal worth,
and all the roads you’ve walked so far-
because you're the savior of the earth,
you must remember who you are.

What some called faith was only fear-
distraction was all that they held dear.
I tell you the truth will be hard to hear
if you've still got something in your ear.

I've got nothing, and nothing is mine.
I've got no god who gives me no sign.
I've got no church, which suits me fine-
at least I'm allowed to enjoy the wine.

At night I can sleep on solid ground,
and listen as nothing makes a sound.
In the daylight I can look all around-
finding delight where nothing is found.

I too have witnessed the ethereal glow,
not from above, nor from below,
but from moonlit footprints in the snow-
from nothing I came, so to nothing I'll go.

You are not Atlas, who holds the earth;
nor are you Hades, who hides below.
You are but mortal, and yet you choose-
therefore you must choose to go.

Go into a world of blood and bones-
this monster begging for its ****;
it’s true, there may be only death,
but you must choose to go there still.

Go into this life which may be illusion,
and build your truth there anyway-
these temples of sand will fall in time
while sand itself will surely stay.

Go into this battle every single day,
and vanquish whatever land you roam,
so when your campaign is met by night-
there will be no shame in going home.

Deep in the comfort of my darkness,
and numb enough to succumb to sleep,
I stare in silence through the shadow-
through the comfort, through the deep.

When in my still there comes a wind
that pierces through the clouds in me;
the curtains dance like shaken spirits
while my spirit aches to be shook free.

My window aligns to the city streets,
but I care not for what lights they see-
for I in my waking see their judgment
would tame the flow of my destiny.

A voice now calls me to the mountain
where I am to finally write my book-
and maybe there I'll reclaim the years
that all this darkness and comfort took.

I am but another of those
cigarettes in San Francisco’s
singing, silent early streets-
falling from the fire escape
and wrapped in hotel sheets.
When all of life was nothing
but some spinning fiery rings,
and in a time when we had time
to waste on precious things.

Setting deadly streets aglow
in frozen, dancing Chicago-
I am the call of the moon,
the song of night, the howl
of the restless night owl
perched forever out of
place and out of pace,
yet promising forever still
to save our human race.

New York City, lit in name,
but dark and brooding all the same-
let me shine upon your dock
for every weary pilgrim
upon every distant rock,
and for every paper plane
toppling your house of cards-
let us look past our broken hearts,
for we’ve ignored another’s pain.

I too am the merciless, wild lands;
a sea of fire in cupped hands-
and like a vulture for its prey,
I stand along the highway long
as golden starmen play my song.
Unchained, untrained, and undefined;
take the ticket, light the mind.
Breathe me in, be free to see,
for it’s not freedom if it’s blind.

I do
because
I’m afraid
to.

I swim
because
I’m afraid
to dry.

I drown
because
I’m afraid
to fly.

I dive
because
I’m afraid
to die.

I live,
because
I’m afraid,
alive.