no i can’t change you or her
God’s wrath is disillusioning you
from hearing yourself or me
or all death’s friends

you think you can fix her
a thousand times like each plate
she’s thrown at you and each fist
she’s swung at you

and i’m telling you God won’t remember
the woman that she used to be
and the counselors won’t help you or her
but you’re a fixer man

can’t fix your back from that one time
she hit it with your old baseball bat
but you’ll fix her one day, right?

When I was thirteen
and still seeing daylight
between my ****** feet
I went to spend the night
with my best friend;
we watched Gunsmoke
on the TV and raided
the refrigerator;
I remember his sister
coming home later
and leaving a crack
in her door and taking
off her clothes before
turning the radio
of my childhood on
leaving it playing
all the hot night long
and I sill hum every one
of those sweet songs.

Time's a number, same with age
but I'd break those restrictions and do it all again
for one more night with you.
for one more night with you.

I remember this girl
who went to the window
at dawn when it was still
dark in the winter and she
sees we have a long time
now that her father passed on
and we know we won't have to
go to school because the bus
it can't run, she slips her slip
over her hair and places it over
the chair near the fireplace
while I unlaced the sinew
of my boots, I remember it
well how we lost our cherry,
it was hard as a rock, like
breaking a wild horse, it was
a mirage of sound as the blood
moon sunk into the frozen ground
and I realized that the times
we can bat our eyelids, and
all of our nights and tomorrows
are not infinite, like love that comes
only once in a lifetime of sorrows.

As I lie here
With eyes closed softly
I think deeply of you
And I inhale stars
The scent of twinkling light
So fresh and alive
Sparkling gentle inside me
And I want to write this feeling
So tentatively
As it must be
Like writing words on bubbles
Delicate and precious
Begging them not to disappear
Like dreams in the morning

                                        By Phil Roberts

The world to me does not exist,
as now I only live in my bed,
sheets and blankets clenched in my fists,
waking up is now something I dread.
The world to me does not exist,
as I just previously said,
and they all say ignorance is bliss,
I had to clear room in my head.

I am just stuck in a rut,
a misery merry go round,
smoking each cigarette to the ****,
silence still making too much sound.

Travel on, keep your feet strong,
life is too short but still too long.
Rambling soul, you'll pay the toll,
with a mind of fire and a heart of coal.
I don't want to stop this,
no I don't want to wait,
fear of missing something to miss,
with a touch of hope of being too late.

The world to me does not exist,
the blue pill looked better than the red,
every hour lived is now on a list,
compiled with showering and being fed.
The world to me does not exist,
society is something I've always fled,
I've hid in the shadows and the mist,
and quietly I've always bled.

I am just stuck in a rut,
a misery merry go round,
with constant aches in my gut,
and lungs that have already drowned.

Travel on, keep your feet strong,
life is too short but still too long.
Travel on, keep your feet strong,
nothing is right and nothing is wrong.
Rambling soul, you'll pay the toll,
with a mind of fire and a heart of coal.
Rambling soul, you'll pay the toll,
you'll live your life and play your role.
I don't want to stop this,
no I don't want to wait,
fear of missing something to miss,
with a touch of hope of being too late.

I know it sounds crazy,
I know I'm such a drag,
I don't know if I'm just lazy,
or if routine is prone to lag.

I keep buying tickets for the lottery
though I'm told I already won.
with each gamble I hope to see,
a glimpse of blue skies and the sun.