Rivers of people
crowded the alleys of my mind.
Every thought of mine
had to go through them.
And they were relentless.
By the time it made through them,
it was not the same.
That beautiful new born thought
had turned into a old stranger.
I learned one thing
that I can never have a thought
or an action
that is truly my own.
And even when the building and the skies
of my mind decay,
the people in those alleys will live on.

The night carried you away
like a river
it wasn't a dream
it was a flood
even the buzzards were sad
as I walked along the evening
I wanted you
to come out of the dark
into the dark
I kept my eyes open
for the port of your neck
it was so easy to bruise
with its vessels
blue as the earth
and then the dam broke
like my voice
but not your spell
and when the moon came up
they took you away in a hearse
I double-crossed myself
with the holy water of your eyes.