My eyes get adjusted to dimness
the twilight makes me grimace too much bright
success , ha
it makes me blind

Like a *** I stumble around grinning
most often not seen a drop of water
in ten weeks, smelling myself
goes after one

songs are my attribute
my condolences  
a seance to that ringing
in this head

money comes and goes
loves become entangled
like wild roses
left untentended

thorns hook make blood
rise and people
to me are
so much like

a grappling thistle crown
of thorns under
the trees I bed down under
sleep awoke

Don't think you understand,
no one does, Not me,
not the trees the underbrush
or skies