drive from the west coast and then follow yourself down into the south where the cactus mock trees out of their leaves and this is love
memories unglued and being put away into a box for the next move
and there's always a next move
a bluish shadow in the morning gripping the frozen wheel and it won't will to your commands and as you get out your shoe becomes untied with the motion of gravity? you can't say anymore nor that you could before
every day slips into your back pocket so when you lie down you have something to fall back into, so you can look at all you've done and smile "i love repetition" you cry
you repeat it so much you believe it as your eyes close
no one's there when you wake up but you didn't expect anyone to be
they say you should've been a songwriter they say you should've shoved all your hurt into the bottom of a well because it's no use inside yourself they say a lot of things
one day you're going to drive back up the coast and retrace where things went missing, where things went out like a broken taillight or a lost conscience
you're gonna find it and then the writing will stop