Great with a couple pieces missing,
I think their tied to my toes trailing behind in the deep snow.
Dooon't weep don't weep.
God isn't mute she's just not speaking right now
& that's okay
Everything is frozen
Nothing is over

We wake up to the smell of burnt coffee and stale beer
It's a new year
And i'm hearing static in the grape vines of paranoid minds that jumble lines and fumble over mines like "it's cool, i like my feet ******"
Muddy muddy muddy afternoons
Lets clear this debt to our projections of the future and settle down

They sleep now

I drink an endless tea cup researching the prescribed method for sewing two moments to one palm and tattooing remain calm on the other

We danced in the garden, danced with beetles & birds & one soul and i'm glad you didn't see it cause your hole would be twice the size of mine right now

Was that me?
Were those my hands sitting in a tree cutting vines to tie together clever lines and mixed wether into a raft to sail until these mountains of burning plastic are all behind?
Out of sight...i must have been but i can't sap anymore, or feel the chlorophyl running down my fingers.
Out of sight and the smokes still here
Out of sight

Now where did my pillow run off to tonight?
Rest your head on this rock when you need to.
I know you haven't been tired this february, but you will be & when that time comes i want you to rest your head on this rock
This chest
I'll be laying in the sand ready for you to open me up

Code me, i'm a program waiting for the enter key
But who are you?
That face has changed
Weight lost and knowledge gained
More and less alone than we feel

A pale mist settles on my chest hair while I lay in a morning field there's nothing to worry about
From holes, mice scurry in and out
It's scary when i shout without intending but now the airs hair is warm and alive and the ending of that rain is over
That reign that impregnated the headlines and airwaves
That reign that tied us to benches facing away from each other and the truth
That reign that kept us creeping through suburb streets, passed midnight, passed freezing, passing one last American Spirit that slowly kills us and drowns our voices in sticky tar
That reign is over for today

I know it's your play, but i refuse to play the priest whipping his own back under a lone candle
I can handle this if you'd stop making me doubt myself
The most kindhearted criticism is a catacomb cataclysm that becomes the only thing to demand you listen

I was just just fishin
Didn't mean for you to bite

Who is right?
Who sat up to write all the ways he was wrong one night until the morning?