So now I am altered

- you player! -
but the case is settled,
             well - probably not, no.
                                                         Aphex twin reduces tempo -

can Moon's ******* wrap me

mummy-like?

        -        Memory of the mammary.

sometimes i think i should have been
mist so i could rest gently against
your skin, but i'm a tidal wave
and you don't want to be pulled in

the way the moon hits the water
which is a lot like how these
feelings keep hitting me, slowly
they come and slowly they go

the ocean parts us to where
we are on different continents,
but we are two hearts as one
forced apart by harsh waters
and the thoughts that we stay
up way to late thinking about

like last night with my feet
dangling off the dock above
the pond,  the goosebumps on
my skin where your warmth
should be, it was then i realized
how gone you really were

laying out under the stars
where the crickets play their
symphonic sounds, i thought
i saw you so i blinked and then
pinched myself, convinced it
must have been a silly little dream

that dock by the pond is
now where we sit with our feet
dangling above the water
and when the goosebumps come
back, you are there to warm me

you came back to me

(a.f)

i seek a fresh page
on which i may be written
a new palate upon which the landscape
of this soul may be inked
         i dreamt
i stand here on the edge of night
looking out over the vast empty parking lot
of some nameless something-mart
a single piece of paper walks with a slow wind across
the desert of pavement
i turn and leave
walking down a tree lined street
only streetlights and silent empty cars
only the night noise of suburbia
a television sound of gunfire and laughter
a dog whispering loudly of his intents to be free
of whatever chain that binds him to his unfriendly fate
i walk for hours it seems
marvelling at the stillness of suburbia's intense isolations
walking from pool of streetlight to pool of streetlight
i finally come to a stop benith one
silence
nothing beyond this place is real
i ask aloud of the meanings of these things
and a friends voice from a long ago conversation
says "one of these things are not like the others..."
and he fades away back into the past
and he takes the dream with him
i wake slowly
to the sounds of a empty apartment
i walked out on my lover
i am alone
it is not a dream
and one of these things is just like all the rest
of the things that don't fit in round holes

He was tired of the ordinary and he wanted something new.  
He wanted to hear the sound of the moon.  
He wanted to taste the tides.
     The sound of the cacti growing in the desert was like music to his ears,
but he could not remember anymore exactly just what it sounded like.  
He wanted to go back to when he did not have to remember
because he could hear it always,
but he could not go back.  

Time had put him where he was
and he could not turn back time, but it was not just a matter of that.
  He knew that somewhere he had lost his understanding of himself, and with it
his conception of the world
became skewed.  
He did not properly understand
the instrument with which he experienced the world
so he was not appropriately situated to judge what he experienced.  
Once he understands what he is
he sees his flaws.
he sees other things too.
    
The rays of the sun fell in a multitude of rays through the trees,
the canopies acting as a colander; taking up most of the rays
but allowing some to slip through
where small trees and shrubs seemed to congregate.
One of the rays fell on the boy
and as it did he opened his eyes
he was no longer a boy.

I am a puzzle
Who's pieces all fit 'cept one
The one that does not fit
is not one but several
which one will be the one to complete me?

I ask how she's been,
like a villain,
she says she can smile,
without me and for a while,
I'll believe,
but I'm running too,
to a place that is new,
where I can serenade girls that dont know what I say,
with poems of beauty and they will stay,
smiling and I'll kiss them,
she knows what I am saying,
but ignores the flaying,
of my muse and myself,
I guess it is for my own health,
I tell her that she is a badass,
along with all that I loved when a lass,
but she is my past,
and I am running to my future

i tried to quit ****
but each morning i wake up from sleep
it's calling me

i walk through the house
and say
today i'll be alright without it
and i'm drowsy
make some coffee
have a cigarette
take a shower
and figure
that this will be the day
i don't pull the lighter trigger
and watch the flame ignite the green
make it turn orange
smoke whip down
around the corner
and up and under
into my mouth
down south
and back out

then i decide
that it's time
to give it a try
because i did all i was supposed to do
with my day
that i could have
to make it better

and then i feel real real light
like a feather
and i start feeling clever
and inspired
and optimistic again

it's like i have a new friend
each day
he greets me again and again

so i guess ill quit smoking
the day he dies
which in my eyes
will probably be longer than me
which makes the answer
to how long itll take me to quit
forever

that's called a soul mate
a life partner
and even though i've known him
for years and years
i feel like i learn something new
every time he blesses me
he's so kind
that bud of mine

Drip, drop, drip
You fired from the hip
Third degree burns
Coming straight from your lips
I start to tremble at my fingertips
I'll never learn because I never made the list
And I guess you could say I got a little ******
So now I roam the country with nothin but my fist

Ever since, ever since
I stopped givin a ****
I just run around
With my heart in my fist

you shouldnt have to force a man to think about his life
but the times are gone when thinking men were thought about as right
the fear of the thoughtful man is rife
in a world where ignorance keeps dominations grip tight