Who is it that you write to
some face in your third eye
vague and dreamy
Who are your messages for
the phantom universe hovering over your bed
That noisy place you wrest your head
Some folks inquire-
"What is it you desire?"
And the only sound answer is
"Everything."
But nothing in particular-
Maybe a cottage by the sea
Salty taste
Far from him
In an isolated tea party
with that hatter who lost touch with reality
At least as dreamers see it
And when I fall asleep it's not next to him
I wasn't his enemy when he's insecure
and now he's someone else's disease to cure
Beaten roads lead to many distances
Tomorrow could dissipate like breathes
I speak to ghosts on the outskirts of society
Wandering souls who speak in emotion
who can only be touched by melodies
that hover like fog over a graveyard
Those apparitions on the road that
disappear after you catch them in your peripherals
We are a dying brood of siblings
Superseded by imitation and the death of community
Magic lives in owl eyes and sits on benches at midnight
with only it's own voice to console itself when no one sees it

The furniture in my mind could do with some feng shui
The comforter's in front of the doorway
and the television's on the floor
Static electricity when I try to explain
all of these things within my brain
I wanna ask if it's okay to
relieve myself of my meanderings
Will I be locked away after I have said something
that shook my core and changed my course
always defensive or raw and coarse
I just want to be true to myself and to you
I just want to know the answers to questions
Iv'e been dreaming through
Maybe tomorrow or on a Sunday
I'll wake up and It'll all be okay
Because I have been thinking about my
life and everything in between
If there is no life after death
I'd like to understand the meaning
I want to talk about the cosmos and things I can't see
the ghosts of my desires self-inflicted injuries
I want to hear in my soul that music that is in silence
after it has been interrupted by some perceived violence
To disconnect from the illusions
that others told me I should pursue-
Sports cars, a marriage, a big house with a baby carriage
Maybe I believe in something else
That at times I ignore from inside myself
There is no right way
So I'll dance, sing and sway
to the music that only I am hearing
while others around me are pondering
"What is he dancing to?"

Is this our reality?
Never admitting to the faults of the dark corners
that makes the room of our existence?
Never speaking of the truth that is believed by each
soul to come with age?
Never being that light we so crave from another?
Can we stare at each-other for more than five seconds
In unadulterated silence?
Why does a brother disguised as a stranger seem
irrelevant to you and your experience?
No soul claims to know from some higher being
with perfect certainty the meaning in our life
like it's easy
No one knows why we die someday
or the answers to those questions
We keep talking, keep driving, keep moving
like mad people to a sense of normalcy
consumed in distraction
You know when I stare at the moon
she stares back and sees me In her pale light
as I am, as I was and how I will be
When will somebody stare at me like the moon does
when I'm under her?
I didn't laugh at this cosmic joke of being born
only to be sentenced to die someday
My purpose is vague in those little things
that cause hair loss and weight gain
My purpose seems obscure...
And that would be alright If I
had developed trust in this chaos
that appears so senseless
And tomorrow is just another day of
pretending I'm okay within this
shifting weather.
It's got to give sometime
I couldn't find it in the bible or in
spirituality and
I couldn't find it in the people surrounding me
I can't find it in the sky or glimpses of the galaxy
I search from place to place like a gypsy
for some solace of a place I can't find within me
Its like disassociation when you cannot feel the
water falling off your skin
And life is only a dream.  
I thought about the alpha and omega but
It hasn't thought of me
And now I'm left here writing of my
meanderings

I've been at the bottom of a bottle
for many binge nights now
shutting the snowy daylight out
No such thing as a perfect person
only a perfect broken one
as he blows like a line of coke
every word we ever spoke
And those innumerable apologies to myself
haven't ceased the quacking of a volcanic heart
they never pierce the borders of an answer
I'm too precarious to figure out
There's no such thing as perfect order
only perfect chaos
Grabbing for a ghost
when the midnight has betrayed us
on the flooded streets by mountain-peaks
or the sticky stains of *** on the desk

And I will make believe and sit alone
Again and again regarding the silence as a song
Where do I, or you, remain; am I, or you, a memory
Faded persons in a picture from long ago
An insignia and dates on overgrown grass on gravestones
I'm becoming myself all at once
An infinite consciousness with faded recollections of its origins
Where was I conceived of first?
In the myriad galaxies and stardust
Within the chasms of whispers in another dimension
where time is as malleable as paper cranes
I make believe my purpose for waking up and sit alone
Some no-thing inside remains unknown
Forming itself like a wave in the sea
And the nothingness is watching me
Will I or you be immortal maybe?
Even after we are indifferent to one another
Even after flashes of yesterday disappear
In the grey dawn of today

Am I changing my mind
Am I thinking of the greater good
A vague being that's moving in motions
aware of my own dread and lack of purpose
It's like I'm dissolved and shapeless
I've always wanted to learn French
I want to go to Canada and
leave the American dream to contort
Sleepy all the time
My crystal ball's so cloudy
Shedding into nothingness
It's like I'm disappearing
I can't articulate my emotions
I can't tell what I'm feeling
I'm staring through myself
a black hole in the mirror
Every thought ending in periods
thinking in absolution's