Long I lay in a bed of dreams
Mourning the days of my youth
Gentle notes playing in my ear
And plucking apart my heart
I thought of all those I had known
Our paths twined for an instant
Before diverging on courses unknown
I drank deep of memory
And saw places long gone
Things that had passed
Wondering what might have been
In other lives

The ghost of her father brings her to tears,
She weeps on the floor alone with her fears,
In a bed full of ***** lies a man nearly dead,
He drank himself blind to hide from his head,
While a child lies awake with wide young eyes,
Swears never to drink till the day that he dies,
I sit in the cold and the dark with a rat,
Consider the world and smoke my last jack

In a rusty white van,
We meet with a dope man,
He climbs up in the back,
Says hand over the stack,
Then he breaks us off fat,
Now take a hit of that,
So we load up the stem,
Melt the sweet smoking chem,
Lips teeth and tongue go numb,
**** why am I so dumb,
But my heart starts to race,
My thoughts pick up the pace,
Feel the uplifting thrill,
As words begin to spill,
I could do this forever,
Be light as a feather,
And just forget it all,
I'll be ten miles tall,
I just need a bit more,
All I want is some more,
I just can't get enough,
'Cause the comedown is rough,
The thing I just can't face,
So instead I will chase,
Till the crack turns to ash,
And I cry as I crash.

Empty hollow meaningless shell,
broken shattered ceramic shards scattered in damp leaves and humus,
contents draining into trailing whirls that run,
gathering earthen flecks into glittering, gritty, mud.

Pear juice, cold chicken.
Cicadas fade in and out, the train blasts by high and long.
Deep green leaves bright red evening sun silhouettes against a blue blue sky.
Dayshadows.
Brown; wood chips on the ground & a warm wooden bench.
Plastic metal frozen in fantastic structures, colors, ordered and smooth and modern.
Buzzing hum of insects vibrating, atomic flying machines.
Melting trees, sunwoods.

Another another another another,
A fire at one end a fool at the other,
My soul is starving but I feed it hot air,
I'm dying inside but don't seem to care.

Eight years old beaten and bruised,
He fled from the house, lost and confused,
Running just running without a thought where,
A child seeking refuge in frigid night air,

He ran for a year, or perhaps just an hour,
Till he ran out his anger, and with it his power,
Casting about him alone in the dark,
He found himself trembling in a dead silent park,

A low haunting hoot cut through the night,
The poor lonely boy shivered in fright,
Cold and exhausted, alarmed by the sound,
He hurried along to a nearby playground,

Clearing the woodchips he lay down below,
A bed in cold dirt and a mind full of woe,
He lay there for ages, unable to sleep,
Then it started to rain and he started to weep,

Earth turned to mud, thunder was crashing,
And all through his shelter water was splashing,
The boy was soon soaked, sodden and drenched,
Sobbing curled in a ball, all bravery quenched,

He cursed his mad mother, he cursed the cold rain,
He cursed his bad life, he cursed all his pain,
The night ate his words and he started to pray,
For the sweetness of sleep to bring him the day,

He lay there for ages, wet to the bone,
The soft dirt beneath him colder than stone,
Stiff beyond movement he merely drew breath,
So done and defeated he wished only death,

And then he awoke, the black sky tinged grey,
Gave a cry of relief at the sight of the day,
He rose slow to his feet and shook off the night,
Stood numb in the chill air and waited for light,

Birds were soon singing to greet the fresh dawn,
He joined them with relish, his misery gone,
A golden glow crested, the day had begun,
He fell to his knees in the face of the sun.