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I was dreaming -  it seemed all I could do-----                            

I’ve been waking up to find out that it’s not true-----                                          

I’ve been sober for three days tonight-------                                                            

And I’ll be drinkin’, but it’s gonna be alright-----



Just remember, this is not about you…

Try and remember, this is not about you.



I’ve been waiting for sixteen years for this------

‘Cause I’ve lost things that I would never have missed----

I need you ‘cause I can’t make it alone------

I know things now that I should never have known----



Just remember, this is not about you…

Try and remember, this is not about you.


I’m daydreaming most of my time away----

And I’m feeling like it's the best part of my day-----

I need answers but they’re so hard to find-------

I’ve been worried that I might be losin’ my mind-----



Just remember, this is not about you…

Try and remember, this is not about you.
like the inconstant moon I change,
cyclical about circumstances,
serendipity and fortune exchange
appearances for second chances,

and as we each alter our perception,
we see ourselves as constant,
each and every change in direction
still seems like a straight line

with no more than closer inspection
looking behind to the distant
fading horizon in the failing light
the pattern of circles and spirals

and zigzags, stops and backtracks
a wandering chorus line of fools
all singing things I can’t take back
the realization that I am not an individual
:
but an average of multiple formulas
complex variable algebra and simple subtraction
a vector resulting from many forces
pushing and pulling and thrusts and attractions

the color of the liquid in the test tube
fizzing and changing with every next drop occurring
an organism that adapts to its environment
to thus fill its requirements and its fleeting yearnings

a flock of birds, a can of worms, a herd of cats,
an untamable unit described in terms
of the time it exists in existing- that is
another illustration, another article, at any other time or mood

a crop whose fruitfulness is determined by unusual farmers
one field ploughed, one weeded, one fertilized, one seeded
akin to the Bible, a book of numerous authors that tries to
merge allegories into a useful, enlightening anecdote with which to furnish the brood

flesh, soul, chemical, inspired, mechanical-Angel
a temptable machine whose springs and cogs
could be found to have been hand-wound
at any given time by either His Rival’s or God’s

and if Made in His Image then I must be both
wrathful and loving, vengeful and forgiving,
quick to temper and eternally patient
yet limited in time allowed to be spent living

the difference is- my choiceful subsistence briefly caresses
this quick struggle and my purpose not yet fully defined
would fate’s justice have me on the gallows for my excesses?
or would not passion for the endowment of living grant reprieve?

where is the solace for the incurably ardent?
maniacally spontaneous, courageously aloof
what cheer can be brought to the seers?
dejected clairvoyants, puppets or puppeteers to the truth

however never simultaneously clever are we
always we must be one or the other each seen
though never seemed to be separate things
now see what difficulty wrecks all my dreams
:
catharsis then epiphany then pensive then somber
an artist, a daddy, a mocked captive, an avid doubter
carouse then abolish then regret then absolve
a spouse, a skirmish, an uncommon asset, an outlet resolved

how do I bring about the determination of the jury?
which of the accomplices will abide full recognition
and be he who will stand to read the indistinct verdict
to the culpable crowd assembled in this the trial of alternation

so contempt be then to the court of constancy!
no thing in heaven or earth adheres to its philosophy
render the sentence that I may be found guilty
yet I am consented to return undestroyed, now let the die be cast

these confines beg for stasis I cannot deliver
my cell itself is afloat without a tether
these customs require that I be a quitter
yea though the pendulum returns to the tock once the tic has passed
Stones which used to be Mountains

worn away by frequent seas


{eroding shores by an ocean’s undulating toll

Will it leave a sound-?-or will all be smitten

by the waves’ pitch and roll,

wearing me down, singing like a siren}


Broken windows in remarkable architectures,

gravel hurled injuring sick and dying edifices


{shattered skeletons by which rusty old panes ache

Will they come back to life-?-or will they crumble

like so much grey mortar

waiting on my grave, my ash like lime}


Substance of life saw so much when solid

now drips its thawing unwanted mobility, unrestrained


{once unique solitary patient glaciers

Will these tepid breezes not extinguish-?-yet hastened

towards the yawning mouth

which empts into the anonymity of the deeps}

— The End —