Feeling not so pretty
in the middle of the night

I've got a glass of wine
and a fluorescent light.

I've got a fridge full of leftovers

of feelings

of spite

I've got a bottle to my left

and its contents to my right.

And there's a morning fast approaching
In which the real life lies

but my body isn't tired
and my brain is stirring fry

and my hands are typing nonsense
as my face becomes my eyes

there's a birdie in the corner
in the corner with the flies

I've got one more chance to make it
but my head's become my mind

I've got one more chance to shake it
but I just can't quite decide.

I like myself
I try to find
the common ground
in Me and I.

I like myself
I try to find
the common ground
the eye to eye.

(I try to see
the eye to eye)

I like myself
I try to find
the common ground
the desperate sigh.

I spend it all
I spend my time
on basking wounds
in deserts dry.

I like myself
I try to find
the common ground
the Me and I.

The statements made
the inner spy
I escape
the spinner's eye.

I like myself
And by the by
I make myself
the glowing I.

I hate it all.
I hate the cry.

I hate the Me.
I hate the I.

I like myself
I like the spy
I accept
The spinner's eye.

Mercury is in retrograde.

My poetry may be hard to rade

But at least I know I understade

What it's actually trying to say.

There's a brand new world
A new universe that doesn't include me. I try.

I try.

And it's not their fault.


There's a brand new soul.
A new universe the doesn't include you. I try.

I try.

And it's not your fault.

There.

Are.

Horrible.

Things.



You.

Are.

Responsible.  

For.


No.

One.

Knows.


The.

True.

Meaning.

of

Regret.

Vocabulary
is, yes, rather impressive.
No one gives a ****.

Music.

It's within. Without.

We share it with everyone. We hide what it's about.

We protect our privacy. We let it all hang out.

We want it, oh how we want it all, it all defines us until we find the wall.

The wall! What a joke. We're all in on the farce. Just give us your music, we'll decide what is art. Just sell us your soul, we'll take it from here. Have another beer, we have plenty, my dear. You're valuable, oh yes, just keep your thumb on the pulse. Drink up and polish your gift of schmaltz.

But it's false. It's all false. It's the ******* waltz,  our partner keeps face while we're falling apart, and then kicks us aside when we're behind in the race. We're falling apart, we're floating in space.

I want this to have a happy ending. If you ever hear one, its ******* worth defending. Keep me in mind. I've got music for spending. Together we've got the means for the mending.