I speak so my mind can hear me.
We don’t like to be disturbed
I write so my head can read me.
We try to see every word.
I think so my skin can feel me.
We still search to be cured.
                                                Have you touched the queen’s lullaby?
                                                We Have.
                                             We’ve heard

Away from the sun
Pale gets warmer
Never number one
Ashes get colder

And the Myans predicted
Only time will tell
Just swimming in my personal hell

We're all sitting ducks
Please hold me tight
Though the night

I’m a crow perched on
A telephone pole
Just waiting for the worms

Lightning comes
I am numb
On the road

Misunderstood
The dove sought after
A change for good
A chance shot at her

Fly with the crow
I want to yell
Swimming in my personal hell

Studying the nest
Bulimic rests
In the throat

And the eagle
Iconic white
If only his mind was right

He’d know that his dove
Has fallen in love
With a crow

Time heals wounds
But it also kills slowly
The dove’s heart grew
Yet blood stopped pumping

Pain felt the crow
As the bells tolled
Swimming in his personal hell

All life aside
He dove through the lake
Drowned and died

Drifting away
No longer felt pain
Free to escape
See the dove again

And the clear water
Drew a surprise
As the tears swept softy from my eyes

There laid the dove
Sent from above
Waiting for me

Drifting away
Drifting away
Drifting away
Drifting away

Please don’t wait
Reveal to me
Your empty space

Lights embrace
Your will to be
My new face

It tastes great
Let me see
Your minds last wake

Judge can’t fake
Amnesty
Clear blue lake

You came, you lost, you came, you won
You came, you tangled up your tongue
You came, you lost
You came, you won
You screamed
“Aren’t we having fun?”

Self-destruction of the mirror
The things you hold dear
Dinner for one
Ego
Salvation is here
For the year of the snake
Holds a spot in its place
For these creatures
Eyes
Make up most of their face
The creatures disposed across
Thursday’s bathroom floor
Sick of December's lifts and lies
The months have been used twice a week
As the mirror gets a crack
Because part of us died

For all who have loved
And
For all who have lost
I have felt neither
So who is at loss?
The ones who have had
And so abruptly fake
Or the one who has nothing
But his soul to take

I keep time while I drive with my left foot
And presumably flatten the pedals with my right
As I get out, my jeans rub with the velvet
Completing the circuit with a metal door, quite trite

Chanting with a focused tunnel vision
I bid my stereo good night
Ending my ride in a final decision
I depart to fall asleep in the leaves

Oh well
A well
The mission bell
Remind me, where have we been?
Oh yes
That’s right
That motel out west
Near the bottom of the $5.00 bin