.
                                                  (what occupies
                                                   behind those eyes tonight?) 

(it's almost morning time)


 
well I can’t sleep with the dog barking in my ear
but I promise I can sleep without you here

though maybe I could do without the thunderstorms of the room
next door
and sometimes hurricanes spit fires in the hallway
and I can’t extinguish flames which rise from the sea...

but please don’t worry about me
my dear
I’ll be fine without you here



(I know you’re wondering,
               the waves thrash only harder with time,
                                                I know you’re pondering….)


I promise I’ll be fine


(promise me you’ll love that dog–)




                                      I promise.
                                      we’ll be
                                      fine

.

we had this identical spat of words
not thirteen hours ago,
in my dimly lit room, with your dimly lit eyes;
I am sure I had wondered if you were present at all.
as desires spilled from my guts
and into empty space to linger,
I am sure they had not entered your ears
because those eyes were on my cigarette and the fruit fly
buzzing ‘round and ‘round.
I wandered to the bathroom sink to stare at my face;
I pretend to be you
and pretend to care about me.
lather, rinse, repeat to get my hands clean,
once, perhaps twice, and I am free;
but how much repetition will it take for you to hear me?

o’ face of wicked mystery, with suffering comes you slyly to fool me
with your trickery and play with my naivete.
acquire what you wish of me, some jewelry or my first baby?
such graciousness is never free
                              (however gracious you may be)
                                                      so listen to my one last plea, I will not beg upon my knees;
with revelation you must flee.

even the kindest of honeybees will be crushed under the weight of rubber and cloth, a man lacking consideration, appreciation; though he has motivation for the adaptiation of our world in his view, when he steps upon that which composes our earth it is our cue. I know, my friends that condemnation is not what we’d like to see for our nation and as we yearn for preservation while our knowledge moves t’ward annahilation we acquire starvation, gain taxation, and yet we do not question our nation. I will do nothing less than scream liberation; yes, the time has come for our salvation.

I spit words of lava, pouring passionately down my neck and to my toes; sealing me to this place where I stand, stuck in this place where I stand and my words are too firey for people to hear yet too gripping for them to look away.
and from a distance they peer not knowing how my words will quickly engulf and obliterate them, tearing up the roots of their society, the homes of families of lovers of friends demolished by my words;
my words so vehement they chase these people out of town and although I cannot budge from this place where I stand, stuck, I will ensue terror upon those who cross my path and I will burn those who rest too close to I.

it’s climbing a mountain in a blizzard unclothed,
with frostbitten fingers and toes and nose.
I've scaled this wall of ice for so long; the top of the summit always seems so close.
it’s my hypothermic body frozen two feet from your face,
and I still can’t reach you.

the colours looking out of the car and into the street up ahead so far,
and at the trees and the leaves and into the sky, they weren’t colours but they were more.
the oranges and greens and blues of our earth weren’t from our earth, but some beautiful place of ambiguity;
because the air wasn’t air that I breathed in but air that breathed me in.
and he moved along so flawlessly,
and when he spoke he spoke from deep within me.
then I awoke
to the darkness.

I often wish I were a fish to feel the water cleanse my gills
I’d play all day with mantarays and never have to **** (for fun)

I’d save a whale who lost his tale I’d help him swim along
and if he died I’d eat his eyes and then swim to Hong Kong (for fun)

if I were a fish I’d be served as a dish and probably wouldn’t know why
though my life would be nice and that would suffice
I'd probably have to cry (for fun)

we spend our whole lives
with one goal in mind
in pursuit of something far too hard to find
every minute we give to intangible ideals
we grasp for air
               as we fall
                           behind

a police man
a priest
a dancer on a pole
we’re all just the same
we’re all searching for souls
for our own – or another
for one of a kind
to be different
and the same
but we’re too **** blind

to see what’s infront of us or even look around
to see what’s going down
around
and if we don’t take a minute to look around
                 …we’re all going down
we’re all going
       d
           o
              w
                  n

you scream,
WE’RE IMPRISONED
to a society numbed
eyes still forward
in a line
ten-hut!
sit, stand, come

while the evening news informs us
the media involves us
the remote control controls us
and the grocery store consoles us
I have to think,
            well, I must ask…
                               what do we work for
                                anymore?

ahead of her she sees the glittering road
divide, as the tongue of a serpent
and the damp, warm aroma
so enticing in its seduction
lures her in from the cold of adolecense

the Devil’s eyes are staring through her
at her undressed body
at her naked bones
longing for a taste of innocence
as He has become accustomed to
and as He is entitled to
as long as we let Him

the path is no longer paved
with bricks, nor cemented
no longer the familiar
but instead
she descends into a world of the unknown
a fragile mind retreats
and armor, constructed from her fear

if only we could see the eyes
of what is contained behind these doors
from the darkness
the scent of fear
seeps through the cracks and keyholes

if only we could feel the isolation
locked up behind these doors
no man can comprehend the fear
that is screaming to us for liberation

instead, we clutch onto ignorance
with our fists clenched
and with our eyes closed
we unknowingly fight the battle
for whichever side is winning

the innocent condemned
by the monsters with their power
if only we could see the misery
we are consuming
if only we could see the horror
we are allowing

on the walk home tonight the stars seemed to speak
like fireflies buzzing – or was it the headlights on the freeway?
the sounds of the sky muffled by flourescent noise

I often wonder if the stars we gaze upon
look down on us and think to themselves, is this really home?
they seem so content with their space

maybe meteors are sad bits of energy
longing to escape the realm of their reality
or maybe they’re just lost and stuck like the rest of us

staring into the universe even breathing seems obsolete
for there is so much more than what we see when we look outside our windows
do we see our creator?
or just our own creations?

I see a boy who is stuck
with cement blocks on his feet
locked up inside his own body and mind
but the key is on the other side

there’s a postman walking by
he sees the boy through a window
he wonders to himself Why is he trapped?
but more than that How can I help?

the postman walks by every day
bringing him bread and something to drink
he doesn’t realize that this boy
is a prisoner of himself

a little girl rides her bike past him each day
she taps on the window and asks
why do you stand here alone?
doesn’t anybody want you?

the boy stares blankly
she gives him a flower
she says Some day you’ll be loved
but you need to get out by yourself

one day the bread and the water stop coming
the little girl has moved away
the familiar squeak of her bicycle has vanished
and the flower is wilting in his hand

he stands by the window
waiting for someone
and the girl’s words ring in his ears
nobody can help you now

he doesn’t move
he only cries
he drinks himself to sleep at night
with cement blocks on his feet

some time has passed
the girl, now a woman and the postman return
and pass the window
to see a tombstone where the boy used to be