I traced the texture of your words
Like my heart was blind
And your voice was braille

These stains will never wash out,
Of a carpet you never liked,
Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide,
With a worn and rusted bike,

Maybe the spot where I killed myself,
3 lonely years ago,
I drowned in the shallow waters,
Though it barely reached my toes,

I can't stand to do this to you,
I can see you in my room,
Crying into my old clothes,
Saying "why'd you leave so soon?",

The sunlight washed over my wooden floor,
It's been years since you last came,
I barely cross your mind these days,
Things carried on the same.

One day you're taking Communion
     The next a square with LSD.
          God is so mighty
               But you left the high up to me.

The Son made you feel full
     But the drug made you feel fire.
          Isn't it God's job
               To fulfill your desires?

Flower Child, I'm your God now.
     You worship me every day.
          Communion is the tiny square
               And it's to that you pray.

I'm constantly living out of a car door window.
Heading to dinner but never satisfied when I eat.
  Always hungering for the next road:
                             The seasoning of the lights,
     The peppering of the people.
The beast within always growling
  Telling me
      I'm
      hungry
  Brighter bulbs to hide from
  More people to not talk to
  More monuments to never visit
          even when I live
         10 minutes away.

But the beast doesn't feed on the lights,
                                      people,
    streets­,
                        noise,
stars, cars and manicured yards,
         Trees, leaves, and jingling keys,
                  Gravel roads, throaty toads,
                             Big red barns and a river's flow.

                                                          ­         It feeds on the want.
                                                           ­                  The need.
                                                           ­          The desire to bleed.
                               The car radio and willingness for the **** I put myself through.

Obese with the metropolis electricity,
Preparing to consume the next one:
   [St. Louis]
   [Chicago]
   [Manhattan]
   [LA]
   Paris
   Rome
   Tokyo
Staring into the reflection of the dead eyes of the person it once inhabited

The hunger smiles in the window.

Running away is fun
[Disappearing] is easy
(It's part of the history,)
but it's never filling.

Bigger city
                            More people
Brighter lights
                                                          ­                   Over and over
                                                            ­                Fatter and fatter
                                                          ­             Emptier and emptier
                                                         ­        Sugar cane in a child's diet
                                                          Fa­lse calories in the form of "homes"

Trapped in a little car,
The driver belting Hallelujah.