It is made of wood
You bend and pinch
your eyes, your head
Your notes are in the sink.

A sharp pencil, an inkblot
a page, few books maybe
You lie down and draw a face
And rub it off "it's crazy"

And you will grow 60
with your desk
bend your head down
like the rest

So before you do
You need to ask

"Can you fly?"
"I want to fly."

I wish I met you again.
Where the sunlight scorched and my eyes met yours,
It was unknown and new
But my heart had never beaten faster,
A horse pumping his pumping *******,
A stallion!
And the sweat that trickled down my neck
Longing to only make you mine,
All that adrenaline, all that sweat
I wish I met you again,
We could be foolish and dance in the rain,
Or make silly choices and hop on a train;

How I wish,
I met you again.

There is a town sir,
It has grown feeble and old,
It has lanes and dreams
That had liquor in them when it sold;
And a red house
That beats like a hurricane
And a woman with pearl locks
Has the door engraved with her name;

She had left sir,
The house had caught fire
I am in search of a fire marshal,

I am no liar.

The truth is,
everybody is sad;
Someone lost their mama,
Someone killed theirs,
It might have been a long marriage
Or he might have been insincere
Your friends might have left you
Or your pet collapsed,

You need a death pill,
She won't love you back.

Sometimes you reach out to grab the moon;
Only to realise, it is a false satellite screen.

After hours, when I'm home
With less than a man, a dog, maybe a gnome;
I'd like to think that memories kept me alive
But alas! it was the lies,
If I smoke any of those e-cigars,
I might as well choke when I look at the sky
Or she who had no friends,
Or she who met her end;
She who lied about poetry to win his love,
Now pushing e-cigarettes through her spine;

I was alone, Alone as I grew up
I poured my own whisky, I shared my own cup,
I'm Fine, I'm sorry,
I'm alive, and the lies
And the lies piled up like old report cards
Whom did I marry for life?
I'm a pathological liar in disguise;

You said I looked like a painting, I gleamed!
Edward Munch drew me, I screamed.