Days are all mashed together
I look out my window,
Can't even tell the weather.

What I own
Is out
On the sidewalk.

I try to say something
But I realize,
I've lost the ability
To talk.

There's splinters in my feet
And bags with not tags
Underneath my eyes.

Every life needs
A little surprise.

Betrayal and damnation.
Dirt mixes with the rain.
Who knew life was supposed to be
Brimming with this immovable pain?

Got a flask a whiskey and
A quarter slice.

Got a risky twenty
And a kitchen knife.

She said to me she wanted to die.
I said to her,
Well, we all gotta' try.

As the moonlight spills out on me
Like month old half and half with
The stars glittering like a fifth grade prom
And the wind and the earth
Rattling hard underneath our bent feet,
I can't help but think of the long way home
I used to take.
That dusty, beaten path,
Two years spent walking up and down
With nothing but my thoughts and music.
Those were the days of philosophy
Running along a river of shining misery.

There's a fluidity in all thing.
Passing through, up and gone.
Like the blue jay's wings
Beating at such an intensity.
Or the nightingale whose song
Has been pure
All along.

Got my passport.
Got my merchants card.
The sea will be my home
And I will not
Think
Of love
On this day.

A wish of escape.
Mastering the arts.
Forgetting oneself
To take over
Another.
Two faces in the mirror.
(Maybe three?)
A past life.
A former routine.
Friends made and lost.
Souls erased
And
Tossed.

Are we nothing
But the wants
Of our imagined
Future selves?

Present me
The
Present.

See into the lake.

Zoology major.

Freshmen squirter.

Drunk for the first time
In a friends closet.
Jealous of all of his
Jackets.
Not all of us
Can be alcoholics
Naturally.

Cat on a wire.
Minestrone madness.
I've got a love letter for you baby,
So come this way.
Oh' yes I've got a
Love letter for yah' baby,
Won't you come on over
My way.

I promise I won't bite babe,
I promise I won't tickle.
But let me just get
A little peek babe,
Just a nibble.

Reverse your rhyme.
Divorce your former self.
The wet forests are calling
Yet I've
Forgot
My name.

I see myself on a beach on fire.
A car in the street
Without any tires.
Lady in the way
Unable to pay.

Stay with the times, they say,
Know
What's going on
In the world.
See the wreckage of man's interests.
See the terror of man's beliefs.
Have the *****
To never
Turn away.

See yourself, ourselves
At the bottom
Of the
Barrel; see
The utter dismay.

Do not
Turn

Away.

It's all for a purpose.
Nothing's for free.
Character is born
From pain, the pain of
Experiencing life.

To live is
To
Shed the skin
Of one's
Former selves.

How many selves
Have you
Shed?

How many
Have

I?