The whole thought of it makes me think,
That I’m falling down something.
Something worse than my leg aches.
Or the headaches I get from the aspirin I take.
A kind of sickness of the spirit,
A crack or the mind,
Or a disfiguring leprosy of the soul.
You tell me I should think and remember back.
But that is because you can't imagine.
The perfect agony of being seven.
The horrible complexity introduced by eight .
But I can sit here and remember every painful digit.
At nine I was the unwanted orphan,
I wished I could turn invisible.
When my head was dunked in a certain way.
At ten a prisoner, at eleven a wretch.
But now I am mostly at my cars window .
Watching the early mourning light.
Back then it never rose so beautifully.
Against the side of my car door.
back then it never seemed to illuminate the world so gloriously.
And my for head never leaned against the window.
As it does now.

As I play my harmonica all the dark blue sadness draining out through it.
The melodies giving me peace in a conflicted mind
The notes freeing me from the bonds of oppression that weighed me down.
This is the beginning of freedom I say to my self.
As I walk through the world in my small boots.
I try to be the man I was destined to be.
The man who I should be.
It seems only a short while ago I used to believe.

There was nothing worth while under my skin,
If you cut me no one would care as I would bleed
But now my worth is not determined by others but by me.

Reflected in the still waters
on the pond with many memories
is the form of the scarlet rose
shimmering glittering with beauty

Reaching out a tired hand
for a thirsty heart
feeling the ripples as my hand
breaks the silence of the illusion

nothing is there but a reflection
shimmering and glittering at my despair
a soft scent a voice like chiming bells
play on my senses mercilessly
as engraved in my heart lies the thorny stem

Blood trickles down my chest
from a would that will not close
a wound I unknowingly hold open
to a bleeding heart

to continue to live is to die
and  in death lies an escape
but that would extinguish my light
and it is not the path I choose to take.

Sitting there unfeeling
not even the dove that flies free
dares to come and comfort me.

On it ticks and tocks
On it shoves and locks
Me into a state of confusion
Crushing and breaking my illusions

Always too much when one never needs it
Always too little when one wants to see it
Driving the most desperate of solutions
Never indulging in dilutions

Cracking the mind steadily
Killing the body readily
Like a poison it seeps and ages
Like a prison it locks us in cages

On it ticks and tocks  
on it shoves and locks
On it breaks and takes
Destruction and creation in it’s wake.

We all seek it
Wanting desiring to feel it’s embrace
We all need it
Twisting agonizing to present our case

Yet it seems to enjoy our failure
Keeping right out of reach
This seems to be it’s favorite nature
a lesson it loves to teach

when we win in a way we lose
like a game with no goal
but this path we will always choose
as dictated by popular poll

as much as we **** and plan
trying to figure a way in
we will always have to stand and fan
it so we can get in

Why is it so hard to be simple?
Something so small so little
Seems so hard and so far
Farther than the farthest star

Something that should be straight forward
Something that should be high now lowered
We struggle so hard to make things fit
Pulling the strings so it’s nicely knit

But there must be some secret code
Some secret channel or mode
Telling us where to go and what to do
Willing us to accomplish and move

But sadly there is no quick way
No short cut no secret say
Simple things come about simply
Hard things come about nimbly

What we see isn’t always what is real
On the dish of life we know not what goes into the meal.

Twisting and turning me until you finally win
Whispering in my ear of all the worlds pleasures
Reaching out like a phantom and touching my skin
Making every moment an internal struggle
as my mind you easily boggle
Playing on all of my weaknesses
Showing me things I cannot resist
Guiding my hand towards that fateful switch
Pushing me to go a head and push it
Then comes the momentary bliss
Then come the shallow promise
then happy with the deed you have done
happy with the battle you have finally won
you walk away with your swaying hips
smiling your addictive smile
"until next time" you say with full lips
as shame swallows me up and my heart does it grip.

If you were a flower, withered grey and broken
I would love thee still
If you had nothing to your name, naked, unkempt without a token  
I would love thee still
If you an old desk, left to decay in the attic undusted  
I would love thee still
If you were a car, small and rusted with wheels broken and busted,  
I would love thee still
For it is what is within that I have seen
And it is there that I find beauty without equal, so strong and fare.
There where I see  a polished gem worthy of praise.  
A person with whom for comfort, near,  do I lay
For within you lies something more  
More glorious and intricate than any musical score
It is this part of you that I adore