It's been a long time
since I had a good cry,
even longer since I let my heart sing.

When was the last time that I found something
that was "to die for", just for it to die.
When was the last time I had a righteous cry.

I  ought to,  I've got to drive on out of here.
Use the charge card, rent a car. Take a day trip,
perhaps a week. Maybe go for broke and drive on out
to the other coast.

If only I could give as much as I get, wouldn't love flow free, make it practically, a good bet.      This wearing my heart on the cuff of my sleeve,
it's got to the point where I can barely breathe.. Something was taken,
when I was young. And repeatedly stolen, and repeatedly I got stung.
I could never give it away, and I can't, to this day.
No I can't any more, yes,  it was taken so long before.

So I kiss those goals and I send them along,
I set them free, I don't hold on too long, it leaves me feeling
that I'm good and strong. As strong as I can be.



Listen close I tell myself, If you don't want to ride the roller coaster
put your hands in your pockets and don't pay the price.
remember *you can't pull strings when your hands are tied,
and you can't feel too good when you're poisoned inside.

The stars are but specks in bits of space, my lids are heavy
from this weary living. I feel the devil has put his bid in place,
On his part, there are no misgivings.

I came to this place of my own volition, to get loose of this crawlspace
is my only mission. Then you'll hear a chorus of me, a churning of mercury burning, I let a moment of time, a bit of space, leave me old and well worn down

I was my mother's bad joke
she just didn't get me

She thought monogamy
Was a type of wood

All I knew about my father
Is that his seed didn't fall to the ground

My mother's friends were ******* me
Their cheap perfume stung my eyes

And burned my throat
As it made its way to my fragile lungs

When I grew older I had a woman
I loved very much

She ghosted me
Turning my heart to stone

To get away I took a trip to
The Petrified Forest asking why it was so afraid

I didn't need a death sentence
To let me know I was alive

So I turned around and went back home
To the place I hang my hat

I lived my life out naturally
Holding memories and a well-worn heart

I had a dream the other night,
                   I visited an old friend
                      who had died last Halloween.

He drank himself to death,
wet brain, liver failure,
the whole nine yards.

In my dream I asked him
    what it was like to be dead,
he said "Oh it's okay....
can I borrow five bucks?"

I don't know I said,
    "How can I be sure
               I'll get it back"

"Ah come on" he said,
"I'm five bucks short for a case"

I relented and we called a cab.
       The cab driver comes
            and he says to Barry,

"What's it like to be dead?"

I stand by the period bed
where Dupleix rested his head,
wondering at his kind of life,

if he lay there with wife
or some native maid.

doesn't hint his bronze bust
if he lay there bare
in ebullient lust

stirred by a girl darkly thin
bowing himself to her embrace
finding in his war beaten mind, happiness,

or, there wasn't any such thing,
he lay there staring at the ceiling
far from even one warm kiss
storming his brain to defeat the British...

I think of the kitten that survived a few days,
it still pains.

In the museum, I rhyme dust with lust.

being the topper in the class, he developed certain pride
that the envious derided, ignored flatterers on his side.

the first bench was his permanent place
from where shone his haloed face
when the teachers spoke seemed it thus
there was only him in the whole class.

all questions he took the answers he knew
solved hardest sums others had no clue
not once an intruder could invade his space
he shined in glory of his flawlessness.

from him was never unfinished homework
ruthlessly made on exams his mark
was taken for granted he would win first place
the rest of the herd would just run the race.

the teachers indulged him the pride of the class
but you know all fame are fragile like glass
it so happened a new teacher joined the school
unbiased he was not to blindly toe the rule.

he asked the first boy if he had ever flown a kite
played marbles on road picked up a fight
if ever he had walked barefooted on the grass
stole a look at sky bunked even one class.

if he had ever chosen to close the book
hid him alone in the scariest of nook
scanned the horizon to catch first moonrise
counted the stars bamboo grove's fireflies.

he looked nonplussed didn't utter a word
anything than studies he hardly bothered
had he answered it would all have been *no
to him most precious was his place at front row.

he bowed his head down with ashen face
for the first time in class he failed to impress
what happened next was no riddle to guess
that teacher was gone without a trace.