I can’t feel if I’m passing through my own head
Or if it’s a movie projected by someone else
I talk so much trying to close the doors
It once was a large room with everything in it
Now it’s fingers of rivers flowing as the ice melts
I wouldn’t have thought it that way
But thinking is living and maybe it’s my fault
I cannot stop the complications of my garden
It takes time and patience, the answer is not easy
Too much sun burns and you can’t drink ocean salt
I watched someone blow smoke rings
I never could do things like that before
Instead I honor the ways of reaching for a bottle
And some old guitar blues prog playing in your head
The time past is a train that runs no more
I don’t mind waiting by the tracks
A barren tree silhouette shadowed by black and white
Being brushed off is a girl looking at her phone
I’m not entertained except by what’s hard to reach
You walked on by while I returned to the light
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 10:34 PM UTC
I can’t feel if I’m passing through my own head
Or if it’s a movie projected by someone else
I talk so much trying to close the doors
It once was a large room with everything in it
Now it’s fingers of rivers flowing as the ice melts
I wouldn’t have thought it that way
But thinking is living and maybe it’s my fault
I cannot stop the complications of my garden
It takes time and patience, the answer is not easy
Too much sun burns and you can’t drink ocean salt
I watched someone blow smoke rings
I never could do things like that before
Instead I honor the ways of reaching for a bottle
And some old guitar blues prog playing in your head
The time past is a train that runs no more
I don’t mind waiting by the tracks
A barren tree silhouette shadowed by black and white
Being brushed off is a girl looking at her phone
I’m not entertained except by what’s hard to reach
You walked on by while I returned to the light
Request permission to use this poem