Subconscious poetry
I miss my nostalgic energy
feeling the heat sun on my skin
wishing on a pebble
found it next to your high heels
your dress and hair bow in the trees
they were shaped like Texas
I miss the road
dead Kerouac soul
I need to fish for some morphine hallucinogen
degenerate again
no money again
lonely again
fine with that again
sittin alone with only the walls and the dog that ****** on my only blanket
I laugh
knowing that tonight
I'll walk down to the lake
watch the geese plagiarize flight
light a cigarette
that I bought with pennies
discovered behind the empty refrigerator

Subconscious poetry
Bob Dylan tongue
Jazz trumpet brass mind

1930's wooden night-club Italian music band dance floor soul

7 years old- never gonna die
20 years old- never gonna die

Foolish as a Child
Brave-ish as I can be

color my walls gray with left over paint
that we used to disguise our sail boat to cross the border

It's just me
the ***** floor
some words
some words
to do.