I live to sleep
I sleep to dream
Sewage holes fill kinny bunk port out of the box Mr. Krull yer big headed Joyce fixation lets the dead dogs in leave the dead frogs to fry read a dull heart and mind
Down for the do little sing song hallelujah chorus let the whole world adore us we are the resurrection and you are the night take old children's programming to extremes and brainwash the yellow things
You asked don't tell so I wish you well and this drug you sling is a dangerous thing of letters and numbers all forced into the machine good girl great guns you'll do what I've done
It's a lie, my foot, there's a false ring to it's nose can you be so cavalier about things you don't know is the the grease going to settle and ruin your good clothes who knows Mr. Whitman, who knows
Words they say cut like blades in another setting where the mice eat men and dry ol' John Steinbeck writes with a pen fall out boy fudge to your granny sue I'm sure she'll agree that'll do, that'll do...bartle doo
Put 'em together yourself, old salt, here, every one on 'ems yerns, twist 'em and turn 'em, pick 'em and burn 'em, take a spoon or a spatula whatever you need to turn all this idiocy into a creed
Cut a few out they shouldn't be here what's wrong with the fool who gave 'em the time of day, there's surely a reason but his girl wouldn't say that evil ghost ***** with no reason to stay
That'll do.
Bartle doo.

This gallery of shape-shifting souls
Has become a theater of the obvious

Token observations presented as
Extraordinary divine revelation

A parade of window-shopping prophets
Pointing, praying, "oooh, I want THAT one"

Stuck in a mold, how many don't know any better?
Confined to their emotions

It's All they've ever known

But that's all it takes to get your foot in the door
Of this funhouse mirror maze

Listen now to the laughter echoing against the glass
Lon Chaney guffaws at all who got lost

Hopelessly walking in circles
Hungry snakes chasing their tails

I wonder how many bottles of beeu
I could stand and open, drink one after another
Slugging '. em down and ***** in' 'em back up when there weren't no room for ani more, not one more little drip yessiree bob and tell Katie Mae to bring some cleaning supplies
I done my time
Drinking cheap mad dog 20-20 wine and Schaeffers quarts
I  a rot gut mamA by nature and choice

Where are the bottles?
Where are the silverwar and glassware
Could it be a dry county we've stopped in ?
What were we thinking
Every man woman and child amongst us
Thirsts

A forest of trees
Sacrificed willingly
For the greater good
A medium of memories
Watch your step
The management is not responsible for personal injury
Refer to the Self-Help section
Second room to the right

The ghosts who congregate here
Holy and profane
Lament the passing of their generation
Guard against fire
For one little spark will bring the whole house down
With enough kindling to keep
It burning for days

I remember my first visit to the Bookery
The improbable tales of countless manuscripts
A sea of words, an ocean of ideas
Stories and poems to wear like clothes
A world on yellowing paper
Easier on the eye
A hundred miles I did drive
To find this treasure of treasures
When I got there I couldn't find a **** thing
But it was fine because I wanted everything

No out of the way bookstore or well organized library
The Bookery was a beast in it's own category
The disheveled nature of the books on the shelves
Made it a puzzle to solve
A maze you forget where center is
Distracted by the scenery on the way

It's a dangerous game I play
Kicking against the dead weight
A sullen ghost laughing behind backs
Daring heads to turn
Victorious when they don't
A treacherous game that kills me
Keeping the dream alive
Well past it's shelf life suspended
Fanning the sparks of cruelty
Battling the guilt
An ominous game of hide and seek
Hunting for treasures that aren't lost
They're right where they're supposed to be
But you don't know that, do you?
And so the fun begins

He stared at blank pages
His heart ached to fill
With nothing inside him
He'd sadly turn away
Leave till tomorrow
What he could not do today

His dream far behind him
Too short and too sweet
The ones who shared it with him
Lost in miles and years
The sounds of their voices cherished
A simple song, a picture in his mind

He felt like he was falling
Away from all that's real
Every day more disconnected
The sudden dawning realization
That some things weren't anything at all as he believed them to be
And so they became new

He thought perhaps it was a period of transition
From Egypt to Canaan
It should have been exciting
But it only confused him
A distraction
Wouldn't go there alone

The last time his pen touched fresh paper
He almost told the world he was through
The future held but one glittering prize
He wanted the race to be done
He searched for words, forget the rhymes
To share these dismal depths

The last time his pen touched fresh paper
It lifted without a stroke
Left behind a dark period that stained through to the back
He stared into it's center, as it were an abyss
He recognized himself in it's void
Falling, he'll write no more