You always complain you find me too distracting,
and I can tell by your eyes that you're not just acting,
but you are my distraction too,
and even though I don't love you,
I can lie, and say those words,
as we lie on the grass, watching the birds.

I called you at 1:19 A.M.
It rang for 15 seconds.
My heart skipped a beat when I heard you answer.
You hung up immediately.
Everything hurts.
I want to go home.

I'm too old now to die young
But not old enough to get rid of my self doubt
I have many years on my record
But if I got arrested, would you still bail me out?

I'm too old now to die young
Too young to have these tragic thoughts
I have many years on my record
But I'm getting tired of walking around with a heavy heart

I'm too old now to die young
But not old enough to think that every tear's been shed
I have many years on my record
I wish I didn't feel like all those years were wasted

I'm too old now to die young
But not old enough to get rid of my self doubt
I have many years on my record
But if I got arrested, would you still bail me out?

We parted ways,
never to see each other,
not to speak again.
It was a healthier way,
happier, less painful.

So tell me why I miss you,
tell me why it still hurts
when I think of you.
My mind wanders at night,
and it hurts the most at 3 AM

It was for the best, wasn't it?

I read somewhere
that we dream in
              Black
          and
white
       So,
           why is it
that my dreams are vivid,
                         and life is dreary,
          only colored with
                              crimson blood stains?

Strong will
Is the best quality boost
That keeps you running to score a winning goal!

montana yellow dress, the highway looked bitter sunday fit.
she knew the land given,
land taken,
thunder walking west.
met a friend. stopped to talk.
he was a holy kid or dog, both songs of kindness.
trickster cool mountain calf
waiting for the water promenade.
deep creek good old boy swimming smiles,
rose up
and shot like bang with the buzzard sioux feathers.
truth is low clouds flashing, dreams burst
in the earth room.
doused sheets of chaparral and canyon grass
a pretty laughing bird.
wet things watch the water-log, and a frog spits whiskey.
charter bus barefoot leather and a father says kids, smell the hammer,
see the hammer touch its words into the world.
work-tale living, fools bled.
river gal cut, oh
fishing.