I told him that my soul was tired
but he didn't understand
How can you explain to someone that your light is dimming?
That the lightbulb is burning out
and the only way to change it is to sleep
is to sleep
or to rip open your chest
with a scream and a knife
and to pull out the monster within
who's reading his book in your light
your precious light
How do you explain this?
and then explain that you can't
You Can't
because he lives
and you can only sleep

George moved
Me humming
His garage sale blues,
Selling stuff
He'll never use.
I'll miss George
Like an older brother;
I told him as much
And got a cheap snow-blower.

Well, are you?
Did the news startle you
That things are a mess.
Gaza's imploding,
Palestine's exploding,
The Middle East could use some help.
In the Communist countries,
There's an electronic curtain
Keeping people out.
Planes go strangely missing
Over unknown ground;
Others don't go missing,
They're eagerly missled down.
There's millions starving
All around;
Meaningful work is hard to find,
Self-worth is in decline.
Under the steeple
There's fewer people,
But that was another time.
My bills are stacking,
We're seriously lacking
A government we can trust.
By any account, our sorry world
Is rightly ****** right up.
If you're not ******,
Then you've missed
The news at six o'clock.

She stood up
and walked out the door.
And she didn't look back.
So I stayed.
Confused, lonely, hungry.
Hungry for her -
her skin made of pale rose petals,
her hair made of pure flames,
her touch, like silk against my skin;
hungry for that fire in her eyes
wondering why
I didn't reach out my hand
to grab her
and make her stay.
But then I realized
that wildfire
cannot
be
held.

In a moment,
in one blur,
it was all rushing back;
cigarette smoke on my lips,
leaning in as if we're about to kiss,
arms squeezing me tighter,
my head getting just a little lighter

that knowing smirk

your hot breath on my neck
and the last time I checked
your hand wasn't on my thigh,
then you say in that longing sigh

"Are you jealous?"

and the question still lingers
like the sparks at the tips of my fingers.
But of course, I deny -
after all, you were never mine,
even though you still often steal a glance,
we don't stand a chance.

*But I guess it's no surprise
that I still dream of twilight skies
and your emerald eyes.