I like to sleep in my street
Clothes because it
Reminds me of when
You told you'd meet me
On the run but held me at
A choice that you knew
I would never make because
I love you too much to give
You turmoil but just enough
To tell you that being ignored
And lied to makes my
Arteries squirt some blood at you

when your plane gets lost
over Malaysia, don't come
running to me with your blood

and tears in your hands. I already
have a trunk full of it and
it's really hard to pawn because

I seem to be the only one
who knows how to lick your
wounds shut even if

it is after the New Year
when the winter strikes
again and makes us shiver.

There are usually dreary
days in  Erie but you,
my fathers parents,
never fail to make me smile though
our distance is marked in miles

There's sewage in the waters,
there's cancer in the stew,
we spin in our chairs like fools
and wait for the car to stop burning
happiness out of everything.

There's issues in the sandy caves,
There's civil unrest between unsettled
neighboring differences even though
we just let the LED light command
our gaze and let us think it's enough.

There's buried brave men whose
fights are left in vain. The lost
lessons of history are gone with
the victors and the flesh
filled cannon craters.

There's a team of building blocks
who surround the men
of business suites with business
suites so they're not uncomfortable
negotiating the end of the old.

There's unknown DNA swimming
in the oil and misled incentive
intentions gliding from Doric
to Corinthian pillars then back to
the Ionic style passing law.

Take your blankets off his floor
and let me sing songs of freedom
quietly through your drums.
We'll run so far out that
we will be closer in  
to the way through.
We both know once we
start burning up in the
atmosphere, the only hopes
of making it is to burn at a steady pace.

she melted when she shared
her heart and head with
all the beautiful people that
made the ground swirl, and
the trees brighten up

Upon arrival, it was instant
survival because of the
knick knack, tip tapped
circus rings that are on fire
being bare handled.
Welder's hands is what Uncle
John has. He always grills
the burgers. Medium is usually
the better of the other
two anyways. Old ways are
are gone with trees of England .