I drag myself
     with gaping wounds,
          out from under
               this inner fear.
Up into
     the blue and clear,
          above my doom,
               before this mirror
of isolated
     deep peace moments
          where i stare
               at nothing more
than the suns reflection
     on a single leaf,
          bright eyed at my
               own integration.
Every particle
     of day here
          is swollen
               into the dappled
slow motion shadows
     of leaves dancing,
          above me  shifting
               as i am interwoven
into the thought
     and substance
          of everything,
               a fountains
hypnotic calling
     in a voice i know
          like life itself
               speaking so crisp
and bone deep purely,
     one fluid vibration.
          i long to touch
               and hold again
yet this constant
     knot i'm in
          does not let go
               so easily.
It suffocates
     and binds securely
          making wisdom's
               progress slow.
Thoughts adrift
     to and fro,
          in and out.
               Dream patterns flow
from dark
     to light,
          stark black
               and white.
How clearly
     must i know
          the cause and cure
               of wounds that spill
out their blood
     in so much ink
          only to congeal
               like poison fuel?
Into words
     that ****
          and rot
               and stink.
In narrow
     withered thinking
          gradually sinking me
               ever more deeply
with each
     new inkling spilled
          a little more weight          
               upon my coffin lid.

Coffin Nail

Sing it with me 1 2 3.
Maybe love is not for me.
Could it be my nervous twitch?
Maybe it's my oxy itch.
Build yourself a padded room,
Big enough for him and you.
Straight jacket gray and used.
Cover up your bad tattoos.
Could It be the way you bailed?
I'm draggin on a coffin nail.
Sent our love away to fly.
But baby I still had to try.
Take it till it's not enough.
Moving on is not so tough.
So karma then would be your prize.
Chew it up with all the lies.
And the people that you thought you knew..
built an army who will despise you.

Don't try to hear me now.
How can silence be so loud?
Through everything I seem to fail.
I'm draggin on a coffin nail.
What have you got left to show?
Baby I couldn't sink so low.
An infant left a broken home.
Just so you could spread and roam.
Maybe you won't read this text.
Maybe you won't see whats next.
Baby I can not deny.
I really wanna see you die.
My heart is numb my knees are frail.
I'm still draggin on a coffin nail

Underneath the face of a sad clown lies a little wicked small town
Just a speck on the map
You may just be passing through but soon the fever will catch up to you
Feel the ripple effect
Here you won't make a best friend, but a sister you never had
She'll guide you through the flowers and offer lots of laughs
But even at her most serene there's a sinister current underneath
A flexing of power
And soon you'll start looking towards the ground, where you'll start tripping too much to be coincidence
An as you look up the danger stops
She'll look right through you as if you were air and she'll say, 'Take my hand'
Soon she'll invite you to parties of mutual bodies, who happen to favor clumsy fools like you
But they'll treat you like a guest of honor, when really their accolades are insults with armor
They've nothing better to do but make up a coded language and test it on you
How did I get here?
How can I disappear?
But as you start to evaporate she'll throw you another inquiry
She's reading off your flaws with smiling jaws
Taunting you with mistruths
You look away hurt, and she seizes the moment to write the jab on a napkin
Something to share with the cronies for later
Ha-Ha, how cleverly subtle you are!
Friendship is makeshift here, my dear
The hippies don't play instruments anymore
The company she keeps would dispose of her in a second
But she's not worried, she has you as her bullet shield
The body-snatchers with mommy issues save face quite gracefully here
They all say they'd leave, but they burn a free ticket
A mafia with no honor
You'll have seen more life in comas than this town
Little coffins with hearsay mouths where hearts should be
Small town breeds fair-weather ghosts and cold abodes
But it sure is a great place to be if you're training on how to play dead

You don't see it

Not at first at least

You might catch a glimmer of it

on a sunny day

I lay inside silently watching

Do not worry,

it's very comfortable

You see I can walk and talk and dance and sing

it is very flexible

do not try to save me

For its locks have closed

and it might as well be 6 feet under

But it has a beautiful cover

of a happy soul

but the cover slips

and you might catch a glimpse

of it when the wind blows

on a cold October night

Do not worry my dear

It might as well be 6 feet under.

Carrying the small coffins silently
They walk among the white monuments
Small boys stuffed into awkward suits
Snot smeared on the insides of their pockets
Little girls kicking dust into their white socks
They walk on and on
Through the bone maze
there is no cross for a boy and his songbird
the world is cluttered with remnants
marble memories not unlike
the marbles the boys have hidden in their trousers for later

Today the man died
His wife and kids were crying
Then came the 'we take care of everything' men.
They saw the coffin, checked it.
Oh yeah...too bad he's dead...
Papers out.... Signed... Done...
And then the money...
Happy....???
Not now...
Maybe tomorrow...
Thank God he died...

I may be dead inside,
I may be rotting,
But Ill keep walking,
until I find you again