the words on the page
nothing but echoes in mind
mama papa me

drunkeness echoes
soft air breathed in again
and i want nothing

i don't play the game
of what if or maybe
i fall into the day

i don't have to i
don't want to there is no why
just fill in the blank

saw evidence of
reality ignored it
poor human mistake

i eat the food of the soft and hard work
   no time is left for a god to appear
cross the river and find a path that works
   a life of effort all live with the true

of not excisting in the mind of self
   and what we call god is a bandaid that
is better than nothing as we bleed life
   out of love upon a table raza

which is true yet maleable so now
   we walk and talk the walking head maybe
not a word is true that's not thought softly in
   a moment of yells and we follow

as to the inner true unheard that
can be peaceful if we try i do not know what

the construct of the
universe is you my friend
you are what is here