an eastern mystic
peddling medicine in the west
pouring holistic healing over sun-soaked lips with every word
magic

fare-faced grinning boy with the same broken heart...
i wanna fix it
with little calloused hands
and miles of fading blacktop dressed in laughter

deliberate steps
forging a trail straight to the stars
built of mead compositional notebooks 
and sentences tied together by hand
a literary fingerprint on a freshly cleaned pane of glass

stardust prophet
moon-beam traveler...
translate the fault lines into tangible fact
fill my flask with daylight dreams 
let's split a glass of imagery and toast to roads yet to be traveled

you are lightning
ripping through the sky at the speed of light
as you tap-dance your way through tall tales
of cowboys
and of hit men
and of strangers faces painted familiar by the dark


they say that time repeats itself
like an unintelligent little girl babbling in the mirror
only so many moments pass
until you're destined to hear the same futile points
for the forth or fifth 
or sixth time

...i've never been like "them"
i say time removes itself from the equation completely
when hearts skip beats to the same rhythmic pattern
of line breaks and voices rising behind a stale microphone
on a dimly lit stage


never fool yourself into believing 
that you were getting what you deserved
when forced to taste the dirt
you are meant to feast on sky
and sky alone will grow you wings

never settle on a good thing when the stars themselves wish you the best