Where you be
girl
you got sand in your skirt
had a dream that the cat
from that show
slapped me on the back
said "hey girl
I like your style
won't come
and play a while?"
I giggled
it's what I'm good for
what's funny?
All of it
the people
the nothing
the fact that's it's so boring
when there isn't a single thing to do
or person
or place
just nope
but oh well
sing in the sky
like it's 1985
and fall back down
when it's midnight,
curfews are for your own good
like veggies
you like em, you love em, you need em
and then
you leave

Always wanted to
paint the moon
it's lovely
the way it glows
throws shadows
they say so,
its light is beautiful
much better than the sun's
which rules the excitement
the action
and yet
it's much better
to be
under the night light
of stars and silver
who needs gold
when melted breaths
surround you

you want what I want
when I want something you want,
which is me
wanting you-
a little funny paradox
hall of mirrors
with naked bodies
ours
you want
to use me
like a weapon
a tool
to absorb your needs
your problems
and difuse reality
so that for a while
you can feel alright
making me alright
but it's not alright
it's very wrong
and for some reason
I think it's alright

Never complains
do you
you bird of a feather
jesus incarnate
you so sweet and perfect
like a little lamb
chewing on cud
loving life like
a kite in the sky
so high
bit fragile
don't you think,
made of paper
was once a giant oak tree
tall and strong
sturdy
reduced to paste
liquid
put through rollers
dyed
now flimsy
enough to fly
enough to rip
at the very mention
of wind

Ifs and ifs
and I know what I want
but how
to find
it
him
without things
getting weird?

Said he couldn't take advantage
because his BAC wasn't quite as sky high
respectable
a gentleman I presume
assume
he doesn't care today
one way or the other
how things turned out
or didn't
can't blame him;
many people in the world,
each is just one more
holding them back from the others.

well well well
what do we have
there
and around this bend
over-exertion
extending into
what I like to call
reality
of some kind
not so kind
or so mean
but a neutral time and place
intermingling in his face
inside of it
so silly right
to imagine being so complete
you know
like there's no holes
at all
just a whole
but complacent
like a lamb
and I shall be
a solvent in veins
scratching at the door
that lets the brightest of the thinkers
into the dark.