He's sleeping in the next room
it rained today
That kind that waters wildflowers and makes trodden paths all sticky
I thought I wouldn't know him
Months ago, one perfect night
we listened to the rain outside the window of my hotel room
I set out the next morning
mud stuck to my shoes
And the path led back to him

Hello
Could you sit there for a bit
I want to consider you
I think I like you
Our fabrics match and the sun shines so nice
Very pleasantly on the seat across the table
Could you sit there for a bit

My songs have been sleeping
But I think
(Because I do not know)
(Really, how should I know)
They come up for you
With sweet sounds my voice will not express
I hear them from your lips instead

Are you a truth
That must be asked
(What is trust?)
This water is cut with clockwork
A ticktock gate and as its keeper
Could you sit there for a bit
And tell the truth

Because!
I’m sorry, but all gears aside
I just
I’m sorry
I just
I’m sorry
Wait
Please
I’m sorry, hold on
It’s not, I mean
Not desperation or anything
Haha, right
I mean
Oh no
When did the gate open

How does a breath
Claim identity on the wind?
One drop in a storm
Just like any other in the sea?

Fear of Babel snatches the breeze
Saps the seas
Fear throws itself upon the world
Like the curtain on a birdcage

Yet every Tempest
Every mighty crash upon the shores
From the lone gust curling?
From the rising spray?
A first note in the silent night?

Under starless sky
Still waters
In dead air
Behind the curtain
I open my mouth.

Oh woman, you've danced your dance
You're partied out, it's time to closet those pumps
But Mr. Phonograph has something to say

He plays the record
The one you're a fool for
And its vinyl
Written with biology
A siren's wailing
Scratches you in all the right places
You dance your dance
Throb with the tempo
Your mind stays yours
But that pretty young body don't

Every fiber knows
Why you curve in such pleasing ways
Why your lips pout so sweetly
They sing along

Peace is for those on either side of the mountain
Not at the peak
You could think in innocence
You will think in wisdom
But Mr. Phonograph has something to say
"now, you dance"

We saw her pained,
The muscles tensed,
Did flesh rip?
I think flesh ripped.

Our moral ways,
Express lanes to her--
That innocent in the machine--
Were papered green.  

The devil watched her violation,
We could not stop it.
There was so much green,
Such pure green.

Today, from my high house in gates,
She haunts my sleep and
Shows me the paths,
So papered green,
Were merely never.
Stretched toward her,
Cracking with her,
Strangled with pure, **** green
Was us.

Hey.
This is my end-song, no more
I shut the book and it'll work
Just listen.

You don't know that I know
Or I think I know that you don't know that I know
Or I thought that you were, and you weren't
Whatever
That's over

But still all this backstage coggery
Whirs and I—
Tick tick tick, you're every time of the day
All our small talk twists the arrow in my chest
You need a friend more than I need you
So I'll go and confess to a jury of unknowns
This half-story they'll never be half-told

I'm like Sisyphus
Every ;) sends my heart
Tumbling to the bottom
Gods be ******, though
Fires rage within, whatever
You need a friend.
The End

I've been lying
Tryin' to make like my says were more than
Tippin' my head and
Letting ink run onto papers
(to be later typed up for the general public)

Wanted to be all
Art and whatever
Use words to weave beautiful things, but
It came out wrong 'cause
They were saying honest things,
Average things,
from an
average Joe
Runnin' his dumb mouth

My name is Runaway Joe.