walking outside alone
on the sidewalk
in the woods
the city streets
in the country
makes you one of the billion
human beings
on the loose

floating in space
with no trace
of the human race

oh wait there's a satellite

I stuck chickens in my baggy tie dye shirt
nuzzled on the couch, coffee in hand.
I enjoyed a deep conversation with a willow tree
and asked how it felt about the other species.
I slid cookies in the back pocket of my tattered jeans
before biking through the morning air.
I smiled at old Ted in the nursing home
with a wink, he smiled back.
I dribbled the basketball with the strong scent
of campfire coming from my backyard.
I danced in the shower
the warm droplets falling on my skin.
I smoked in the sparkling cove
with strangers that became my friends.
I flew off the high rocks
and submerged into cold crystal waters.
I looked into those faded blue eyes,
and chuckled cause' we do that.
I balanced on the fallen limb
and hopped up onto the beautiful stump.
I giggled with my sisters
cause' we made some really mean jokes.
I ate spaghetti with my friends,
and laughed so hard we choked.
I tumbled over tree roots
got back up and kept on trailin'.
I thanked God for this life
and he said you're welcome.

cigarette smoke
empty balconies
trippy lights
one band
and it can only be crime funk

I watched the mailman go by again.
He's always at it, delivering mail.
It reminded me how the days pass by and
how theres always Thursdays.
The mailman goes by day after day,
shoving mail into box after box.
I watch him.
I watch his technique.
He doesn't know I'm watching,
but then slowly people trickle out of their houses.
To open the previously closed box
and open the previously sealed letter.
One letter may be special.
So lets be thankful for this doorless truck and its driver.
But really its all about the driver
The mailman.

Sitting among seven strangers
sharing stories and shepards pie.
I found myself talking to a man named Rick.
Rick was homeless and out of work for eight years.
No loving family.
You see, he began talking to me
Telling me his story.
I listened, pondered.
I did not ask many questions.
He just talked and talked.
I was somebody he could talk to.
He is 50, he outlined a few of his struggles.
He told me during Christmas time...
He didn't want to make it to 51
Because he was lonely.
Lonely.
Lonely?
Lonely.
Billions of people on the planet..
And he's lonely.
Lonely.

These things happen I suppose.
They always happen.
I used to care about something, you know.
I did.
I used to feel something when I stared at the sky.
Now the hardwood feels cold under my feet,
and my lungs have lost their warmth.
The clouds eat me whole as I walk home.
They smile.
Sometimes I do too.
But I've wandered too far this time,
these steps don't look familiar.
Someone still sleeps inside this house,
but it's not me.
Someone still lives inside these bones,
but it's not me.