So the soon
Fermented grapes of
Insane wrath

Pile on top of me
And
Weigh me down

In the streets and
While I lay in bed
Trying to dream

I am accused
From within myself

As
Shattering stars
Stranded reflect the dancing
Ageless of the universe

Down below
Lain on the Vlatva, above
Karlovy Most
They dance freely

Pockets filled with stolen
Fish weights, the men robbed
Napping, shoulder to shoulder,
Both their poles bobbing up and
Down with the steady current

I cannot find myself here
The voice trails off
Mind melts off like afternoon fog
Sheets wet with sweat
A tremor of fear up my neck

I hear a dog bark
Down below my window
I am alone now
I always have been in my way

And its bark sounds like my cry
Within these words

A familiar shock to the system
Hair on ends, eyes wide, filled
With the tears only old friends could make
When they made me laugh

The danger is all gone
Open bullet wounds filled with
Rusty red and orange
Hot flesh underneath hotter sun
Apprehending the mind, preventing it
From turning over to black

Quick fixes we have for ourselves
A naked glance down a dark alleyway
Dimly lit souls cast in a light
Mother used to warn us about
What Father always seemed to be around

Swallowing hot, tasteless sweat
There is a frown upon my face, but
A smile inside my mind

Redwood trees rocking themselves to sleep
The Pacific dressing herself with the
Lights of San Francisco, the incoming fog
Preparing herself for a night
Like every other night

Beauty in nature's devoted routinely cycle

Wisps of brown mixed grey gather
Around the silver metallic drain
The hard truth of morality bouncing
From the four harder walls of reality

But, the blind
Accordion player plays on

Hocking his wears for passerby's
Who do not notice him,
Their dogs seemingly more interesting

His music trailing off into the
Cacophony of car horns gelled with
Radio stations, cabbie confessions, and
Syphoning cigarette perfume
From backseat driver's who don't give a ****

The weight on top of me
In the street
At my work
In my work and
Out on the street again

That weight
Heavy
Smelling of fresh black tar
And typewriter ink

The finger's weak with thought of inspiration

Each idea a birth, as well as a death

Nature's idea of human will
Tricking us to never give up
Never admitting defeat to benefit her
Us the fish and she the lure

And in this time between light and dark
Thought and unconscious
Each minute showing on my clock to be an hour
I continue not for her, but for my own power

To reach my heaven in mine own tower