"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

if happiness was rain I'd live in Seattle
no matter how pale the days become
drenched in pollution and smog
the rain would wash it away and highlight the bright colors of my rain boots
splosh splosh splosh as I walk through the busy streets
and since its raining I'll be sheltered with an umbrella
it'll act as a shield, as if I was a knight in Renaissance days
maybe not a knight exactly, but the days and nights might get confused with the lack of sunshine
but I find I work best when I'm a little confused
because being confused gives me an excuse to sit down and think things out
and when things don't work out, I can go out and buy a new pair of rain boots
there are few things shopping can't fix
but when I don't have the money or energy to go shopping
I do have the rain
which sadly, is a reminder that nothing lasts forever
because on a random Tuesday the sun will peak out from behind the clouds and take place of my bright rain boots

click clack clack as I walk through the busy streets
no rain boots, no shield
just myself and the sun
and the slight sun burn from that day will remind me throughout the week when rain is falling that all things, good or bad, leave scars

the pink on my cheeks from the sun and my shriveled up fingers from the rain tell me that I can't shield myself from everything

some days I'll get caught in the rain without my umbrella
and other days the sun will catch me off guard, leaving my cheeks flushed for days;
letting me know that yes
if rain was happiness I'd live in Seattle
but Seattle rain isn't a constant

sometimes your cheeks need to feel burned to remember how nice it is to be drenched in happiness almost every day

I can no longer hear the smooth notes of jazz,
how the saxophone, trumpet, and piano
worked together in harmony when we didn't.

I can no longer find shelter in the soft chords,
for the safety I once felt in your presence
has been compromised once again.

They call jazz a dying art, which,
I guess, is what we became.

Scientists divide my body
into systems,
cardiovascular,
circulatory,
respiratory,
but when you are in my presence,
it all becomes nervous.

You are a stallion,
The wind running through your knotted mane,
Free and wild.

For years he has tried to tame you,
Mold you like clay into something he can understand,
Something he can control.
(You belong wholly to yourself.)

The stable is crumbling,
The fence is decaying,
The trough is empty.
(This place has nothing for you.)

Use your hooves to gallop away, my dear.
Do not ever come back,
For this is not your home.
It never was.

I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself.